


The Sidelines

by Onyx_Stars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Bottom Kuroo Tetsurou, Casual Sex, Communication, Depression, Dirty Talk, Dom Tsukishima Kei, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't Copy to Another Site Without Permission, Getting Together, Humiliation, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kink Negotiation, Kuroo badly pretending to be a cat, M/M, Making Out, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Spanking, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, actually not so minor violence as people try not to die, as the story progresses, bokuakakurotsuki, like the real and good and helpful kind of talking to each other, spirit/demon Kuroo, that's it that's the idea that started this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 144,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyx_Stars/pseuds/Onyx_Stars
Summary: Tsukishima doesn’t know a lot about magic. That’s okay. He’ll leave that to Bokuto and Akaashi (mostly Akaashi, really). But that is before a strange black cat shows up at their place. Tsukishima also doesn’t know a lot about cats, but he thinks they usually can’t do calculus or read books, yet here they are. And things only get stranger from there.Kuroo’s plan is fool-proof. Pretend to be a cat, hide at Tsukishima’s place for a while, enjoy all the attention from his house mates Bokuto and Akaashi. No getting attached. Soon as Kenma comes back from his newest trip, he’ll go back home to his old life. It will be easy, and it will be fun.It does not work out that way.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 486
Kudos: 619
Collections: Haikyuu, maazeesfavs





	1. Drenched Cat Demands To Be Adopted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this work is completely self-indulgent and is already twice as long as it was supposed to be, so I don't guarantee for anything. It was supposed to be short, but currently clocks in at 100k words, with the end still pretty far away. There go all my plans of uploading this as one short fic.
> 
> I'm dividing it up into chapters now, so here we go. Please enjoy this very low-magic AU with these four idiots who I adore with all my heart.

Tetsurou is drenched to his fucking bones, it’s cold as shit, and Tsukishima isn’t home. 

It’s so fucking frustrating. Tetsurou wants to choke out a hairball and leave it on Tsukishima’s pillow as revenge. But he would have to get inside the house for that. Which he can’t. Because Tsukishima isn’t there. 

The room Tetsurou is glaring at is dark, door closed, no voices leaving the apartment. He doesn’t think anyone is around, even though he can’t look in through the other windows. It’s the third floor, and he’s lucky enough that the one tree in this suburban hellscape lets him get up to Tsukishima’s window. 

It would be a very useful way to get inside, if Tsukishima was here. Which he’s not. 

Tetsurou really hopes this is the right place. It’s not like he _knows_ the guy. He was here exactly once before, mostly by coincidence. 

That’s why Tetsurou is here now. There is barely any connection between them. It should make for a decent hide-out for the next—however long it will be. 

Kenma didn’t say— 

Tetsurou shudders and blames it on the icy rain. It’s only early October, but it’s already freezing, especially now that the sun has gone down. Tetsurou has been walking through this awful weather all day just to get here. 

And now Tsukishima isn’t around. Hoo-fucking-ray. 

He jumps down from his perch on the branch. Mud sticks to his paws and clumps in his fur before he reaches the paved way that leads to the entrance. Tetsurou would lick it off if it didn’t taste so bad. He wants a fucking shower. 

That’s not going to happen, though. Tsukishima doesn’t have any clue about Tetsurou not being an actual cat, as much as he might look like one right now, and it should very much stay that way. There would be no point in hiding, otherwise. No one can know where Tetsurou is. And no one will know, because no one but Kenma has any clue what and who he really is. 

Kenma’s buddy Tetsurou? Gone. Disappeared. A phantom. 

Right now there’s only a drenched, black cat, silky long fur stuck to him in pitiful strands, sitting accusingly at the doorstep of Tsukishima’s apartment complex. 

Tetsurou is pretty sure that the one time Tsukishima had him, he wasn’t even told who Tetsurou belonged to. Pretended to belong to, when he’s a cat. 

Fuck, he really hopes Kenma is okay— 

He really hopes Tsukishima will show up soon. And that the guy still lives here. Maybe if Tetsurou sits here and looks pathetic and adorable enough, someone else will take pity on him and let him inside. Maybe even feed him. Take care of this poor, abandoned kitty for a while. Tetsurou isn’t picky. Tsukishima is just the best option he could think of on the fly. Maybe finding an actual, complete stranger would be even better. It would fit the spirit of hiding. 

Tetsurou's thoughts are interrupted when someone walks down the small path towards the front door. Two someones. One holding an umbrella, the other covered in a garishly yellow raincoat and absolutely dripping. They look just as drenched as Tetsurou is. 

When they get closer, the automatic lights turn on, and Tetsurou thinks they look familiar somehow. Maybe they were sharing the apartment with Tsukishima? That’s as good as it gets, since Tsukishima is still not showing up. 

With the lights on, they notice him, too. Mr Yellow Raincoat sprints towards him, splashing water and mud everywhere as he goes. “Look, Akaashi!” he calls, half turned around to his companion. 

Tetsurou resists the urge to roll his eyes, because cats can’t do that. If he was an actual cat, though, all the yelling and waving would have long scared him off. 

“Quiet down, you’ll scare it away,” Mr Umbrella voices his exact thoughts, approaching in a much calmer manner. 

Raincoat guy is still bouncing in place with excitement, but he does go a bit slower when he bends down and reaches out towards Tetsurou. “Look at you,” he coos. “Poor thing. All wet from the rain.” 

Well, that’s as good a start as any. Time to play it up. 

With the softest, most pathetic meow, Tetsurou rises up to push his head into the large hand. It’s surprisingly warm, despite the freezing temperatures, and rough. Tetsurou rubs his whole body along it, purring from deep within his chest, keeping his eyes on the guy’s face all the while. 

His cute act never worked on Kenma. But it’s damn effective on nearly everyone else, if he dares say so himself. 

The guy practically squeals with delight, reaching out with his second wonderfully warm hand to scratch behind Tetsurou’s ears. Tetsurou arches into it, taking one small step after the other until he’s half climbing up into the guy’s lap. He’s a bit worried that it won’t fly so well, because he’s dragging mud all over the guy’s jeans, but that doesn’t seem to bother the young man at all. 

“Akaashi, it likes me!” he proclaims proudly, hands coming up to cradle Tetsurou against his chest as he rises up. The wet raincoat is an awful sensation against Tetsurou’s wet fur, but he doesn’t squirm. He’s trying to look cute and nice and pitiful after all, not as contrary as he can usually be. 

Akaashi, the companion, is far less impressed with Tetsurou. Tetsurou really hopes he won’t throw a wrench into his plans. “Put the cat down, Bo,” he mutters. “It has a collar. Someone will think you’re trying to steal it.” 

“But it likes me,” Bo, apparently, protests. Tetsurou doesn’t think that was his full name, but then again, it’s not like he caught more than a passing look at them last time or anyone introduced themselves to a cat. 

Akaashi sighs and steps closer. “You should let it go home,” he says calmly, apparently immune to Bo’s fierce pout. But then his eyes narrow and he leans a bit closer. “Wait. Doesn’t it look kind of familiar?” 

Bo blinks, and lifts Tetsurou up a little higher, holding him out into the light. It’s an awkward grip, kind of uncomfortable, and again Tetsurou resists the need to squirm away. “You’re right!” Bo calls then, delighted. “Isn’t that the cat Tsukki watched?” 

Akaashi still has that contemplative, thoughtful look on his face. Thin fingers reach out towards Tetsurou’s head, stroking through the long, wet fur that sticks to him like an icy second skin. 

Tetsurou probably does look quite different from his usual, fluffy self. He really hopes Akaashi can still see the resemblance. No way he's walking back out into that rain. 

For good measure, he tilts his head forward into Akaashi’s touch and gives another small, pitiful meow. He’s going for heart-melting. Loveable. Adorable. Like the Puss in Boots from Shrek adorable. He’s trying his fucking best, okay. 

“What are you doing out here, little buddy?” Akaashi asks, voice softer now. Tetsurou is not a fan of the baby speak, but today he’s willing to make sacrifices. 

He meows again. _Look at me, I’m just a poor, lost kitten, all wet from the rain. Let me inside and give me some fucking grub._

“We should take him inside. Maybe he got lost?” Bo suggests. Tetsurou could hug him. 

Akaashi nods, thank fuck. 

Tetsurou bids the icy rain farewell as he’s carried inside, pressed against an icky raincoat.


	2. Disgruntled Home-Owner Denies Rumors That Cat Has Taken Over Household

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayooo, time to get this fic actually started!!  
> ngl, I'm super excited because I just love these four idiots very much and writing this whole thing has been a blast.  
> A huge thank you to everyone who left kudos or a comment on the first very short chapter!! ilu, please have a great day!

“Tsukki, we found your friend’s cat out in the rain!” is not how Kei expected to be greeted.

“What,” is therefore what he says in return.

Maybe he’s already asleep and dreaming. He’s certainly tired enough for it. Having early classes at uni and the late shift at work tends to leave a person in a state where one’s senses can’t be fully trusted anymore.

But sure enough, when he looks up from taking off his shoes, there’s a somewhat familiar black cat sitting a few steps away and staring at him like he’s somehow personally offended it. Its fluffy black fur sticks up from its head in the most ridiculous way, and that’s a dead giveaway that this really is the cat that Hinata dumped on him—what, two years ago?

What is it doing here?

“Have you cat-napped Kuroo?” Kei asks Bokuto, who’s lounging on the couch with a dreamy look in his eyes, gaze always following the cat that prances around their apartment like it owns it.

“That’s what his name was!” Bokuto mutters, still not looking up at Kei.

It’s getting a little suspicious. Bokuto has been whining about having a pet ever since they moved in here. Akaashi has never indulged him. Not so far. But Akaashi wouldn’t allow stealing someone else’s cat, so Kei discards that particular hypothesis.

“It’s not a very imaginative name for a black cat,” Kei huffs dryly. If Bokuto hears him, he doesn’t let it on.

Akaashi steps out of the kitchen with a bowl in hand. “I’m making dinner. Would you like some as well?” he asks, and Kei nods. Akaashi inclines his head towards their furry guest. “You should probably call your friend.”

“I will,” Kei agrees, fully ignoring Bokuto’s whine of protest.

An hour later, unfortunately, it very much seems like Bokuto will get what he wants, at least for now. Kei has tried half a dozen times, but neither Kageyama nor Hinata are picking up his calls. He’s texted them both now, informing them that Kuroo has been found and that they can come pick him up as soon as possible. Or tell Kuroo’s owner.

Kei is doing his best to remember, but he doesn’t think Hinata mentioned their name back then. It was sort of a _”I’m watching my friend’s cat but something came up, can you take him for a day?”_ , hit-and-run sort of deal.

Now that Kei is unable to reach Hinata and Kageyama, that leaves him at a loss. Yamaguchi doesn’t know anything, either, even though he’s much better friends with those two idiots than Kei is. It’s very frustrating.

Kei should have asked more questions back then. He regrets that now. He has no clue who this cat belongs to or how to get it back to them.

He also doesn’t know what kind of person calls their cat something as creative as ‘Kuroo’ or leaves it with Hinata, the living embodiment of chaos. But they sure seem like the kind of person to lose their cat in the middle of this downpour. That has to be what happened, right? Any time now they’ll realize what happened, contact Kei, and take their cat back into their own chaotic ways. Kei can only hope that it will be soon.

He would feel sorry for the cat, really, if it wasn’t giving him such an evil look the whole time and shedding its fur everywhere.

It feels like very deliberate contempt on the cat’s part, directed specifically at Kei and Kei only. The damn beast is an absolute angel when it comes to Bokuto and Akaashi.

Kei is pretty sure that cats shouldn’t hold malevolent intentions to this degree. Maybe it isn’t just a cat. It could be magical in some way. Then it could be smart enough to hold some sort of grudge. Not that Kei knows why it would dislike him of all people. He treated it okay, for the one day he had it.

Kei really wishes he’d asked Hinata for more info back then. He’s not even sure what to feed the cat now, and quite grateful when he finds out that Akaashi already took over that task.

There’s not much more he can do now, until Hinata or Kageyama reply. Kei checked the cat’s collar, but it doesn’t have a name or address on it. Just a simple red band of leather, with a small silver bell on it.

It’s incredibly frustrating.

Bokuto, on the other hand, is _delighted_.

He’s built a makeshift toy for the cat by taping a few old socks to a stick, and is waving it around excitedly enough that Kei worries he’ll poke someone’s eye out. The cat is jumping around all over the place, trying to catch the thing. Kei can only hope it won’t scratch up their floor. He’s not paying for that if the super complains.

Kei gets himself some scrambled eggs from the kitchen and sits down across from Akaashi at their small living room table. Akaashi is reading a book, even though he looks dead tired. Probably for class then.

Kei would scream if he had to struggle through getting a literature degree. But Akaashi seems to enjoy it, most of the time.

He hasn’t even taken the first bite, when there’s a loud, disappointed groan from Bokuto. “No, Kuroo! Come back here!”

Kei looks over. The cat is strutting over to him, fluffy tail swaying proudly, greedy golden eyes fixed on Kei’s plate.

Oh no.

“This is not for you,” Kei says, making a shooing motion. The cat just pushes its head against his hand, blinking up at him with a soft little _‘mrrow’_ sound. “This is probably not even safe for you to eat.”

“It is,” Akaashi says. At Kei’s ensuing silence, he shrugs. “What do you think we fed him earlier?”

“Getting treated like a damn queen, huh,” Kei mutters as he glares down at the little freeloader. Couldn’t be bothered to be nice to him earlier, but now that he has food, the little thief is suddenly cozying up to him.

Kei pushes the cat away, not harshly but not particularly gentle, either. The damn animal doesn’t even lose contact with his hand, just moves right back in. It makes an even softer sound now, more like a _’mew’_. It sounds more like a kitten than the fully-grown beast that it is.

Kei glares at it.

“I’m hungry, too,” he grouses.

The cat pushes forward against his legs and starts purring. It looks large with all that fluffy black fur, but beneath that it feels pretty thin.

Kei supposes it must have walked quite a long way to get here. They have a train station conveniently close by, but they’re pretty far from the city center. The cat probably wandered around in the rain all day. Maybe its owner forgot to feed it and that’s why it took off?

Kei sighs. He looks down into those sparkling golden eyes and it’s like the cat already knows that it has won, even before he grabs a piece of egg and holds it out.

The cat eats it up immediately, purring loudly all the while. It doesn’t bite Kei’s fingers, which he appreciates, but it gently licks at them when the egg is gone.

Kei pretends that he doesn’t find it cute as he goes back to eating with one hand, petting the beast with the other, even though the angle is a bit awkward with the cat pushing against his lower legs.

Akaashi, in return, pretends not to grin at him knowingly. Bokuto flops down onto the couch with no such subtlety, resting his head on Akaashi’s lap. Akaashi doesn’t look up from his reading.

“I can’t believe Kuroo sold me out for food,” Bokuto whines.

“There, there,” Akaashi comforts him flatly.

Something settles on Kei’s knee, and Kei glances down to find the cat looking up at him with curious eyes. It looks like it wants to climb up into his lap and is just waiting for permission. Which is a little odd. Kei doesn’t know much about cats, but he doesn’t think they have that much tact, usually.

A lot of things about this situation are pretty odd. They’re starting to add up.

He pats his lap, and the cat takes it as the okay it is. It jumps up onto Kei’s legs and curls up tightly, happily purring away. Kei returns to petting it with his free hand.

“You know, this is probably not a regular cat,” he muses out loud. The cat’s ears perk up for a moment, before sinking back down to their previous relaxed position. Yeah, it’s not fooling Kei one bit. It _definitely_ understands what he’s saying.

“What do you mean?” Bokuto asks, straightening up just a little from his previous slump. “Seems like a cat to me.”

How Bokuto can have a magical bloodline and still understand so much less than Kei, who really has no connection to magic whatsoever, will forever be a mystery to him.

“Kuroo does seem very aware of what we’re saying,” Akaashi agrees, momentarily putting his book aside. He knows way more about this magic stuff than Kei does, so Kei is interested to hear what he thinks this cat is.

Kei nods. “Yes, that. And I don’t think a regular cat would come to our place after only being here once, years ago. I’m surprised it even found the way.”

“If Kuroo is more than a regular cat, you should probably stop calling him an ‘it’. He’ll be offended,” Akaashi advises.

Kei looks down at the purring bundle on his lap, a little worried, and comes back up to Akaashi’s slightly amused smirk. Ass. “I don’t remember Hinata mentioning what _he_ is,” Kei grouses. “Just said Kuroo belonged to a friend and had to be watched for a day.”

“He’s probably nothing too high up, then,” Akaashi hums, looking thoughtful. “Guess you’re not getting cursed for being disrespectful today.”

Kei scrunches up his nose. “I’m not the one who made him play with old socks.”

“Hey, Kuroo liked that!” Bokuto defends himself, sitting up so he can gesture at Kei angrily.

“Maybe a lower spirit then?” Akaashi continues on, unperturbed. “But most of those can talk. And usually they look a little different from regular cats, they have more tails or a longer one, or glow or float—” His brows furrow as he trails off, thinking.

Kei hopes he’s not accidentally bringing up anything bad here. Akaashi knows more about magic than he and Bokuto do combined, but he’s also the one who has the most issues with it. He seems fine so far, though.

“I thought he might be a familiar,” Kei offers. “It would fit, if Hinata’s friend was a witch or warlock or something along those lines, right?”

It’s the best idea he can come up with by himself. Kei is no expert on magic at all, has always been quite content to ignore it and live his life. He still wasn’t able to avoid all the movies and books about magic, though, which is what he’s drawing from now. As far as he knows, familiars are just like regular animals, but with a higher affinity for magic and more intelligence. It’s the best explanation he has for this cat that looks normal but seems oddly smart.

But if he is right with his guess, Kei has to wonder—What kind of idiot loses not just their cat, but their _familiar_? In this weather to boot?

He’s pretty damn sure that anyone who's missing their familiar would be losing their mind with panic. There’s more than enough media emphasizing how close and intense a bond between a magical practitioner and their familiar is. Certainly close enough that someone should be desperately trying to get Kuroo back right now.

So maybe he’s wrong after all. Not like it was a particularly educated guess.

Kei is more than willing to discard his idea, so he is a little surprised when Akaashi nods, looking lost in thought.

“Hmm, maybe,” Akaashi hums slowly. “Familiars are smarter than other animals. But then what is Kuroo doing here alone? His partner should be able to sense where he is and come pick him up.”

Kei shrugs. “Maybe they are. I couldn’t reach Hinata or Kageyama, but they’ll probably see my texts soon and then let their friend know. I’m sure they’ll reach out to us tomorrow at the latest.”

“What?” Bokuto squawks sadly. “And take Kuroo away?”

“We can’t keep him to ourselves, Bo,” Akaashi murmurs softly, even as Bokuto’s shoulders slump dramatically.

“But his partner let him run away!” Bokuto complains fiercely, and he looks honestly upset. “Kuroo was drenched when we found him! And starving! He came all the way out here! What if he had a reason? I mean, he probably had one, right? If he’s as smart as you say you are? What if he ran away because he was treated badly or left alone?”

Kei’s mind processes that for a moment, taken aback because it doesn’t seem like one of Bokuto’s usual tantrums when something doesn’t go his way. Kei is used to those, and usually annoyed, no matter how much Akaashi insists that Bokuto has some brain to his brawn.

Now it seems like that’s really true. Bokuto makes a good point.

Kei finds himself looking back down at the ball of black fur in his lap. There’s already hair stuck to his pants. The cat will shed everywhere. It will be a nightmare to clean up. And Kuroo, that little sucker, doesn’t look guilty about it at all, sprawled out on Kei’s lap the way he is.

He came all the way out here. Bokuto is right that a cat as smart as they suspect Kuroo to be wouldn’t just do that without reason. And there aren’t many reasons why a familiar would run away from their partner, Kei assumes.

He’s never learned particularly much about magic. It’s a constant background radiation in his life, but so is electricity, or heterosexual romance movies. Kei knows about these things, has some basics down, but no insight beyond that. But he knows that when he presses a switch, the light turns on. He knows that at the end of the story, the guy gets the girl. And he knows that a familiar doesn’t just run away from their partner without a damn good reason.

Kuroo doesn’t look like he has any reason. He looks like he wants Kei to pet his stomach and feed him more of his dinner.

“Maybe his partner is bad,” Bokuto says into the silence. They’ve all been quiet and thinking about this for a while, Kei realizes. “We shouldn’t just give Kuroo back to them, then.”

“We’ll see about that when they contact us tomorrow,” Akaashi hushes him.

He’s right, Kei supposes. They can’t figure out any of this without learning more about the situation first. They’ll just have to wait and see.

* * *

Tsukishima was wrong.

Keiji isn’t upset about it. It’s not like Tsukishima can predict the future. He supposes some people can, but not Tsukishima. Tsukishima can’t do magic. He doesn’t know it. He's just a regular human, though a very smart one. Keiji likes that about him.

Keiji doesn’t like that Kuroo’s owner or partner or whoever they are doesn’t reach out to them. Not the next day, and not the day after that. Tsukishima’s friends also don’t reply to the messages he keeps leaving.

It’s odd. Very odd. When it comes to magic, Keiji has learned that odd is the same as worrisome.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind. He’s very smart, too smart for a regular cat just as Kei had said. They’ve had to improvise a lot, not expecting Kuroo to stay at their place for so long. He sleeps on the couch and he eats what the internet says is safe for cats to eat, and he uses their toilet. That part is very odd, too, but more helpful than worrisome.

Koutarou once showed him a video of a trained cat using a toilet. It was a regular cat, not a magical one.

Kuroo is different from a regular cat, though. He sits in Keiji’s lap sometimes, glancing at the pages of Keiji’s book like he’s reading along. He doesn’t squirm around as much as Bokuto does. That’s nice. Bokuto has complained loudly about Kuroo stealing his spot, and Keiji could have sworn that Kuroo made a sound like laughter.

Kuroo is odd in more ways than that. He refuses to go outside, for one. At first they were worried about him sneaking out if they opened the windows or the door, but when Koutarou tried to take Kuroo outside to play, Kuroo flat out refused to leave the apartment. He ended up hiding on top of the refrigerator until Koutarou loudly promised he’d let Kuroo stay inside.

Keiji gets Kuroo’s sentiment. He also thinks it’s nicer inside than outside. But that makes it even weirder that they found Kuroo on their doorstep. If Kuroo is so averse to going outside, then why would he leave his previous place? Why would he seek out _them_ of all people? Was it a coincidence that he ended up here? Was he just strutting through when he picked up a familiar scent and decided to stay?

They can’t ask him. Keiji has tried, but either Kuroo doesn’t understand or doesn’t want to answer.

Kuroo seems smart enough to understand.

It’s odd. It’s worrisome. Why did he come here? What did he leave behind?

Keiji shudders to think that Koutarou is right. Kuroo seems to be a familiar most likely. He’s smart and Keiji can sense him having some magic, and certainly no spirit would hang around being someone’s pet. A familiar is the answer that makes the most sense.

But what kind of things does someone have to inflict on their familiar for it to run away from them? It’s unheard of.

Kuroo doesn’t seem like anything bad happened to him. He wasn’t injured when they found him. Only wet and hungry. But he didn’t flinch from their touches. He has no issue with being petted or picked up by them.

It all makes no sense. Keiji doesn’t understand.

Keiji worries.

* * *

There isn’t a lot of time when Koutarou is home alone. It only happens when both Keiji and Tsukki are busy with uni or work.

There is, to be exact, a window of about one and a half hours every Tuesday morning, which is when Koutarou gets to take over the living room for a workout.

He has a lot more room there than in his and Keiji’s room, and he doesn’t miss out on time he could spend together with Keiji. And Tsukki doesn’t complain about being distracted from his work or the TV.

It’s just Koutarou and his workout playlist and his mat and a lot of cardio and strength training and a bit of stretching towards the end. It is, in a way, Koutarou’s ‘quiet time’, even when it involves _Hold Strong_ playing at full blast. That is yet another reason why Tsukki would usually complain, and even Keiji looks a little bit unhappy whenever Koutarou plays his music that loudly.

Kuroo is a new addition to this routine, though.

The cat watches curiously, perched on the backrest of the couch, as Koutarou lays out his mat. The loud volume of the music doesn’t seem to be his thing, though. He flicks his ears and then ambles off to somewhere else as Koutarou turns on his playlist and begins his workout.

Koutarou hopes Kuroo manages to find a quiet spot for himself somewhere else in the apartment. Maybe do something that is fun for a cat, like curl up and nap. Or hunt dust mites.

He himself is having a good time, able to clear his mind of anything but counting repetitions and sets. No worrying about Keiji or Tsukki or Kuroo or why still no one has shown up to reclaim their cat.

It’s a good workout, is the point. Koutarou is on his last set of push-ups, body pleasantly warm and aching and exhausted in the good way. His loose tank top is maybe a little soaked in sweat, and he’s feeling great.

That’s when he notices that Kuroo is back. The fluffy black cat is sitting in the hallway, watching Koutarou from a distance with sharp, golden eyes. Well, mostly one eye, since the other is usually covered by some of his long fur.

Kuroo is just staring, as far as Koutarou can tell, before he has to turn his attention back to himself. The last set is always a challenge.

He still hears the quiet _tap_ of Kuroo’s steps as the cat comes closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Koutarou can see him sit down right next to him. Kuroo meows demandingly.

“Sorry, almost done,” Koutarou assures him, low and a little out of breath.

Another meow.

Koutarou thinks that’s it, until there’s suddenly a new weight settling on his back, small, cool paws stepping around before they’re replaced by warm fur. Kuroo must have curled up.

“Kuroo, no,” Koutarou whines. He would never go so far as to call their cute, little cat heavy, but it’s the last set and having the extra weight right between his shoulder blades is not helping.

Kuroo does not leave, however. Koutarou sighs.

The last few push-ups are a nightmare, and the moment he’s done, he just lets himself fall down on the mat with a groan, closing his eyes.

“That was mean, Kuroo,” he mutters, and is answered by an innocent meow. There is something tickling at his hair, and Koutarou is pretty sure that Kuroo is pawing at it.

Koutarou gives himself a few moments to breathe. Then he carefully shuffles around until he can pull Kuroo into his arms and sit up.

“Want to be my training partner, hm?” he asks with a grin. “I could use the extra weight for stretching.”

Kuroo blinks at him and meows, looking utterly adorable. Koutarou takes that as a Yes.

The rest of his workout is way more exhausting, but also way more fun than it usually is.

* * *

“Come on, Kuroo,” Koutarou cajoles the cat softly. “Please eat something? For me?”

Keiji pretends not to be watching them as he sets the table with Tsukishima, but he can’t help but glance over.

Kuroo meows and very vehemently does not move, holding Koutarou’s look. Koutarou nudges the bowl closer to him, dug out from one of their kitchen drawers and filled with the cat food they just bought.

It was Keiji’s idea to buy some. It seems like Kuroo will stay with them for some time, and Keiji is worried that Kuroo’s diet won’t be balanced if they just feed him whatever they happen to have at hand that isn’t toxic to cats.

What he didn’t count on is that Kuroo is maybe too spoiled for regular cat food now.

“Please, Kuroo?” Koutarou tries again. He picks up one kibble and holds it out.

Kuroo very pointedly turns his head away and instead looks at the table Tsukishima and Keiji are setting. He meows.

“Spoiled little freeloader,” Tsukishima huffs coldly, ignoring Koutarou’s offended squawk of “Hey! Don’t be mean to Kuroo!”

Keiji rolls his eyes with, maybe, a small amount of fondness. “The kibble really doesn’t look that inviting,” he admits, thinking back to how long they spent standing in the aisle at the supermarket and wondering if they shouldn’t have gone for something else.

“I told you we should have bought that other stuff,” Koutarou whines, dejectedly dropping the kibble back into the bowl.

“Koutarou, we can’t afford gourmet cat food,” Keiji points out, noting the slump of Koutarou’s shoulders and then adding on, “Think about how much it would cost in the long term.”

Koutarou perks up at that. Kuroo does, too, notably, ears flicking up high and eyes wide.

Keiji is a little apprehensive if he didn’t say too much now, but—Well.

No one has come to pick up Kuroo until now, and who knows how much longer it will take? Keiji has resigned himself to the fact that they won’t bring Kuroo to a shelter or to other people, and. He’s.

It’s nice to have him around, sometimes. Keiji doesn’t really mind.

And he knows that Koutarou loves having Kuroo around. Tsukishima doesn’t mind it, either, despite how grumpy he acts about it.

It’s clear to see in the way he pats Kuroo’s fur when the cat ambles over to them, pressing against Tsukishima’s legs with a hopeful little purr. “You’re too spoiled,” Tsukishima grumbles without any heat behind it. “If you don’t want to eat, you’ll stay hungry.”

“We can’t let him _starve_ , Tsukki,” Koutarou protests.

Kuroo meows, like he agrees, and abandons Tsukishima’s legs in order to sidle up to Keiji. Keiji pats his head, once, before he very firmly says, “It’s cat food for you from now on, Kuroo, I’m sorry.”

Kuroo makes a very soft noise, sort of like Keiji stepped on his tail. It tears at Keiji’s heartstrings a little—maybe more than just a little—but Keiji has already decided on this.

“No,” he repeats, with another pat to Kuroo’s soft ears. “It wouldn’t be healthy for you, and we can’t eat cat-approved food for every meal.”

“Please, yes,” Tsukishima sighs, exhausted. “I’m getting sick of scrambled eggs.”

Keiji is glad to receive some support for his decision. It really is better this way, especially if Kuroo is going to stay with them for a while.

Still, Kuroo’s sad little eyes—and also Koutarou’s puppy eyes—are a little hard to bear.

That is why Keiji doesn’t say anything when he sees Koutarou sneaking Kuroo some of his mackerel during dinner, obviously trying to be sneaky about it and failing badly. Silently, Keiji exchanges a look with Tsukishima, whose lips are twitching. He can’t quite hide his own smile.

* * *

Keiji is down. Koutarou knows.

It’s mostly fine during the days, but Koutarou has noticed that Keiji looks tired and doesn’t sleep well anymore. That always happens when Keiji worries about something and can’t make himself stop thinking.

Even without having to ask, Koutarou knows that it is about Kuroo. Keiji expected that someone would come by and pick him up soon, but by now it has been a full week. It begs the question of why no one is coming, and Koutarou is sure that is what’s keeping Keiji awake at night.

Koutarou is wondering sometimes, too, but not in the way Keiji is. No one coming by means Kuroo is staying with them.

Maybe Koutarou should drop by the pet store on his way home from work to pick up an anniversary gift for their cat.

Because Kuroo is _their_ cat.

His previous owner will have to fight Koutarou on that, when they finally dare to show their face. If they ever show up at all.

Koutarou would feel very sorry for Kuroo for being abandoned like this, if Kuroo didn’t seem perfectly fine and happy. And he’s definitely better off with Koutarou and Keiji and Tsukki than with whatever asshole had him before.

Koutarou would never abandon Kuroo this way. If Kuroo disappeared now, Koutarou would be scouring the city. He’d be throwing tracking spells left and right to get him back. Well, maybe get someone else to do that part. Koutarou is no good with spells. He’s got a bit of extra magic thanks to a tengu great-great-grandmother, but all that gets him is a few weeks each year when feathers sprout on his shoulders. They’re itchy and they always get stuck in his clothes. But Keiji likes them, so Koutarou supposes it’s not so bad.

The point is, Kuroo deserves better. Kuroo deserves a nice squeaky mouse toy, or maybe a rope to tug on, or something. He deserves people who love him.

Koutarou is maybe getting too upset about this. But he can’t let go of this. He knows Keiji thinks something similar, that Kuroo was maybe abandoned by his partner and then ran away. He knows Keiji gets sad about it, because Keiji was abandoned by the people who should have cared for him, too.

Koutarou thinks, maybe he should get a present for Keiji as well. Hopefully it will cheer him up.

Hopefully presents will cheer everyone up. Should he get something for Tsukki, too? He’s not dating Tsukki, but he still cares, and the guy has been especially grumpy lately.

Koutarou makes it back to their apartment with way too much of his paycheck spent.

* * *

“Kuro.”

Kenma’s voice is much quieter than it usually is, when they are like this. Muffled, sort of. Is it because they’re far apart? Because it’s been too long?

He looks all faded out when Tetsurou turns towards him in this space they share. It’s darker than usual, too. The light keeps flickering.

It’s weird. Kenma drew up this telepathic space for them to communicate in emergencies. To help with Kuroo pretending to be Kenma’s familiar. It’s Kenma’s own spell. But it never looked like this.

“We don’t have much time,” Kenma’s faint image presses out, before Kuroo even has time to open his mouth. “You need to hide. Right away. Don’t come back and don’t come looking for m—”

Kenma’s voice breaks off with a sound like static. But harsher. Like growling.

Tetsurou wants to reach out but Kenma is already gone.

* * *

Tetsurou wakes up with a gasp. He twists around, but Kenma isn’t there.

Of course he’s not there.

This already happened.

It’s not the first time that this dream repeats itself. Tetsurou really needs to get this under control. It’s getting ridiculous.

He carefully plucks his claws out from the fabric of the couch. He’ll be in trouble if he shreds it. There’s a sound behind him, and he startles.

Akaashi is standing in the room.

Tetsurou either hasn’t heard him come in, or he hasn’t noticed him standing there all along. He doesn’t know what Akaashi is doing here. It’s the middle of the night, by the looks of it. He hopes Akaashi is not upset about the scratches in the couch.

But as far as Tetsurou can see his expression in the dark, he doesn’t look angry. Just—weird. All tight, and pale.

Akaashi moves very slowly when he comes closer, even slower than he did when he first found Tetsurou outside their door. His hand, when he reaches out, is very slow, too.

“I didn’t know cats get nightmares,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Tetsurou worries how much he saw. Frantically, he checks his form, but he still looks like a perfectly normal cat. No accidental shifting. That’s good, at least.

It’s been getting exhausting lately. He doesn’t usually stay in one form for so long. He hopes he won’t lose control one day. It would be hard to explain why Kuroo the cat is suddenly a naked man.

Akaashi is still gazing at him with that heavy set to his face, fingers gently, oh-so gently, carding through Tetsurou’s fur. Tetsurou keeps staring until he settles on ‘sorrowful’, to describe the look in Akaashi’s eyes. He mews softly and pushes into the touch.

“What happened to you, hm?” Akaashi muses, again sounding like he’s talking to himself more than to Tetsurou.

Tetsurou only purrs and leans into his hand. Keeps his act together.

He knows that Akaashi and Bokuto think something bad happened to him. Some sort of horrible cat trauma. Tsukki probably doesn’t. He mostly seems annoyed that still no one has come to pick Tetsurou up and that Hinata and Kageyama won’t reply to his messages.

Tetsurou knows they won’t. They’re with Kenma. Wherever that is—

Something awful and raw bubbles up in his chest, and his small cat bones feel far too fragile to contain it.

He misses Kenma.

Maybe he’s doing the wrong thing. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened, should be out there instead, looking for Kenma—

He only realizes that he stopped purring when Akaashi makes a small, hurt noise and pulls him up against his chest. Akaashi sits down on the couch, curled up around Tetsurou like a protective wall, curling around Tetsurou like he’s a comforting teddy bear. He’s still petting Tetsurou, still being incredibly gentle about it. His eyes look suspiciously shiny, even in the near darkness of the apartment.

“Sucks being left alone, huh,” Akaashi murmurs.

Tetsurou doesn’t quite understand. Bokuto hangs around Akaashi every chance he gets. Tetsurou knows they’re a couple. Knows they’re sharing a bed because he’s seen every room of the apartment. He’s seen every way those two work together. He knows Bokuto would collect the stars from the sky for Akaashi, if Akaashi asked.

It reminds Tetsurou of Kenma and him, in a way. So he doesn’t get why Akaashi feels lonely. _His_ partner is right in the next room over. _He_ doesn’t have to wait and hide and pretend to be a cat when Bokuto could be in danger.

But Tetsurou also knows it sometimes goes deeper than that. The loneliness. It eats its way in and once it has settled deep in the bones, even someone else’s warm touch can’t quite chase it out anymore. It took Tetsurou years to feel warm inside again, even with Kenma at his side.

He doesn’t want this for Akaashi.

Akaashi is always so nice to him. Has been from the start. Took on all the work of keeping Tetsurou clean and fed, without ever saying a word. Lets Tetsurou lie on his lap whenever he wants and pets him, even when he needs to read or study. Allows Tetsurou to read along with him, and never pressures him about the fact that Tetsurou could obviously answer his questions, if he wanted to.

Akaashi is home alone a lot. He reads and studies a lot. Tetsurou isn’t sure if he has a side job like the other two.

He always brightens up when Bokuto comes home. Even when Tsukki comes home.

He looks lonely otherwise. A little emptier. Duller.

Tetsurou stretches up from his perch on Akaashi’s lap and licks his cheek.

Wetness gathers in Akaashi’s eyes. He wheezes out a chuckle, a choked-up, wounded little sound. His hands come up to steady Tetsurou.

Tetsurou purrs for all he’s worth. It gets him another few of those wheezy chuckles from Akaashi. Tears begin running down Akaashi’s cheeks, but he’s also smiling, and Tetsurou keeps licking.

“Thank you, Kuroo,” Akaashi murmurs, voice hoarse and unsteady.

Tetsurou wishes he could do more. He butts his head against Akaashi’s cheek, trying to shove him back to bed. Back to Bokuto, who can give Akaashi real hugs and actually talk to him instead of pretending to be a cat.

He’s surprised when Akaashi doesn’t put him down as he walks back to his room. With quiet steps, Akaashi slips back onto the bed, only then letting go of Tetsurou. “Want to stay?” he offers, voice barely above a whisper, even though Bokuto looks like he wouldn’t wake from an earthquake.

Tetsurou considers his options for a moment.

He probably shouldn’t stay here. He should either be out there, looking for Kenma, or maybe thinking about a new place to hide. He can’t just stay here forever, right?

And Kenma will be back. Hopefully soon. Then Tetsurou will leave altogether.

But it’s lonely and cold outside on the couch. And Akaashi looks lonely and cold, too, even as he’s lying down and Bokuto automatically wiggles closer to wrap his arms around him.

Well, Kuroo has never been the type to deny himself the things he wants.

He curls up in front of Akaashi’s chest, purring quietly until Akaashi’s breathing has evened out and the hands combing through his fur have stilled.

Only then does he allow himself to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot this last time, but if you want to yell at me directly, I have a [tumblr](http://onyx-stars.tumblr.com) and a [twitter](https://twitter.com/StarsOnyx)!


	3. Cat Uses Supernatural Abilities Only For Own Selfish Purposes

Tetsurou would give Kenma the stars, if he asked.

It’s never been a question. People would sometimes look at them and assume that it’s Tetsurou who drags Kenma along into trouble. And he has done his fair share of that, don’t get him wrong.

But Tetsurou isn’t too vain or too proud to see that Kenma is by far the smarter one between the two of them, and Tetsurou can appreciate that and follow when the need arises.

Kenma is calm, and reserved, and usually not particularly motivated for anything. But oh, when he _is_.

When Kenma wants something, he gets it. He’s smart and resourceful enough to make things happen on his own. It’s just an added benefit that Tetsurou thrives on getting Kenma anything he wants.

They have always stuck together. Two outcasts. One more human than not. The other part demon. It’s no wonder that the other cat spirits weren’t big fans of them.

It doesn’t matter. They look out for each other. Tetsurou does his part for Kenma, and Kenma gives him so much in return.

Tetsurou wanted to go to the human cities, and even though Kenma hates people, they were on their way immediately. Tetsurou was worried about his demon magic getting them in trouble—and rightly so, human laws regarding demons are a fucking nightmare—and Kenma had a plan ready for them soon as Tetsurou voiced his thoughts.

Humans don’t like demons, but they don’t mind mages with familiars. As long as Kenma the mage is followed by Kuroo the cat, no one will wonder about how smart Tetsurou is or the magic he can wield. And occasionally, when that gets too boring, Kenma’s buddy Tetsurou will drop in while Kuroo the cat is sick or asleep or at the vet’s or whatever other excuse they come up with.

It’s a good life.

It was.

It wasn’t perfect, granted. More than once, Tetsurou has worried when Kenma will grow tired of their game. It could get him in big trouble if anyone caught on to Tetsurou’s demonic magic. Especially with the other mages. Kenma could get _killed_ over this.

And Kenma can’t get a real familiar this way. Kenma deserves to have an actual familiar. A companion to help him focus and calm and evolve and rely on. Tetsurou does his best, but he isn’t all that.

They have to keep _lying_ about it, too. Kenma says it doesn’t bother him, but Tetsurou knows him better than that. Kenma has finally, finally made other friends, as loud and annoying as they sometimes are, and it has to be killing him that he has to lie about such an essential part of himself to them.

When Kenma said that he’d be away for a week with Hinata and Kageyama and Yachi, Tetsurou didn’t have any objections. Maybe that would bring them closer together. Maybe Kenma would finally find love or a new level of friendship or whatever else it was that he wanted out of this.

Tetsurou wants Kenma to have everything he could ever wish for. Tetsurou would do anything for him.

If Kenma says “Jump”, Tetsurou jumps. If Kenma says “I’ll be gone for a week with Hinata and his friends, you can stay here”, Tetsurou says “Sure, have fun”. If Kenma contacts him telepathically and says “Go hide, no questions”, Tetsurou doesn’t ask questions. He goes and hides.

And it’s killing him.

It’s been over a week now. Three weeks since Kenma left.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kenma is supposed to be back by now. Not sucked into this—whatever it is.

Kenma’s plans always work out.

Hinata’s don’t. Hinata has been a trouble magnet since day one. It’s probably how he ended up befriending Kenma. Tetsurou usually doesn’t mind. It’s fun.

But now Kenma could be in danger because of it.

The only reason Tetsurou is not completely losing his mind is because he knows Kenma is smart. He’s not foolish, and he’s not self-sacrificing, either. Kenma would call him for help if he needed it.

Right?

Their telepathic bond still holds strong. Kenma just hasn’t reached out in a while. And Tetsurou can’t reach him. That happens. It’s hard to do when they’re far apart, and Kenma usually prefers the privacy of keeping the connection closed on his end.

And Kenma told him not to follow. Kenma told him to hide.

Tetsurou always does what Kenma says. He trusts him. If Kenma had sent a text or an email, maybe Tetsurou would worry that this was a set-up. But the bond can’t be faked. That really was Kenma. Hassled, yes. But definitely Kenma. So there has to be a plan. And Tetsurou can’t ruin it.

Kenma wants him to hide and stay put. So hide and stay put he will.

Even when worry is driving him mad and his cat form is beginning to feel too tight and itchy to contain him.

* * *

“Quite the mess we’ve got ourselves into, am I right, Kuroo-san?” Keiji laments as he puts Kuroo down in their basin. He frowns a little at the sticky feeling to his hands. Kuroo is squirming, looking just as uncomfortable.

It has to be quite an awkward sensation to have long fur and then get drenched in milk, Keiji supposes. It was an honest accident on Koutarou’s part, but he still apologized profusely to Kuroo. He’s wiping the kitchen clean now, and Keiji got saddled with bathing Kuroo. Again.

They should see about buying cat shampoo one of these days. It’s becoming a habit for them to end up here because of one accident or other.

Luckily, Kuroo doesn’t hate taking baths.

Keiji was very worried about how to get him to behave that first night, when Kuroo was more mud than cat and a bath seemed the only reasonable option. He read three different guides on how to entice a cat into bathing, only to then find out that Kuroo really likes getting bathed. Small blessings.

He looks very content now, too, when Keiji turns on the warm water and begins rinsing the milk out of his fur. Keiji cards his fingers through the long hair carefully, hoping to avoid any tangles. He’s still amazed at how soft it is.

In order to get through the thick scruff of fur at Kuroo’s neck, Keiji has to dig his fingers in a little firmer. Kuroo startles at that, ducking away, and Keiji hastily pulls back in turn.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, softly. “Was that too hard?”

Or maybe he hit a tangle in Kuroo’s fur after all. Or a sensitive spot. Or could Kuroo be hurt?

Kuroo shoots him a look from unreadable golden eyes. Unwittingly, Keiji tenses up.

All this time, they’ve been worried that something could be wrong with Kuroo. That he might have run _away_ from something. Something bad.

This is the first clear indication Kuroo has given them of not liking something, except for not wanting to go outside. The first time Keiji thinks he could be scared or maybe in pain.

Keiji regards the cat very carefully. He has no doubts that if something is bothering Kuroo, he can make himself understood.

But then Kuroo blinks and settles down again. Keiji hesitates. Kuroo flicks his tail and meows demandingly, throwing Keiji a look over his shoulder like he wants to say _’Get on with it already’_.

Very cautiously and even more careful than before, Keiji reaches out to wash the rest of the milk from Kuroo’s fur.

“Is this alright?” he asks, feeling a little unsure.

Kuroo feels relaxed under his touch, and his eyes slip closed. He looks content. A moment later, a quiet purr starts up.

Keiji focuses more on getting Kuroo cleaned up and mentally chides himself for reading too much into things. He shouldn’t get so hung up on his worries that he sees problems where there aren’t any. Maybe his touch was just a bit too harsh or the spot too sensitive for Kuroo.

Everything is fine, he tells himself firmly.

The rest of the unintended bath feels very peaceful.

Soft affection bubbles up in Keiji’s chest at the way is Kuroo relaxing under his touch, so full of trust and serenity. With both his hands wet, he smooshes a kiss against one of Kuroo’s ears.

Keiji didn’t actually plan on getting a pet, but now that Kuroo is living with them—

Keiji thinks it might have been an unexpected surprise for the better.

* * *

Kei is trying to study when Kuroo pushes open his door and waltzes inside. The annoying little furball meows demandingly until Kei picks him up. There’s no room on his lap while he’s sitting at his desk, so he sets Kuroo down next to his book. He hasn’t trusted Kuroo around his uni stuff at first, but the cat really is well-behaved enough. He’s never torn up any of Kei’s things.

And it seems he just wants company, as he curls up and watches Kei struggle through his work. Whoever decided that advanced calculus needed to be part of a business degree should be punched in the face.

It’s getting late and hard to focus. Kuroo is a bit distracting, too. Not because he’s doing anything, but because Kei can’t help but wonder what he’s doing here.

It’s quite obvious that Kuroo’s favorite people are Akaashi and Bokuto by far, for always feeding and cuddling and playing with him. Kei is firmly in last place.

It doesn’t really bother him. He likes to have some peace and quiet and time to himself. So what if he’s not falling all over himself to impress a _cat_. At least he’s not forgetting that Kuroo won’t stay with them forever. Someone will pick him up eventually. Kei already shudders to think how Bokuto will whine about it when the time comes. He really doesn’t envy Akaashi that kind of mess. They—

His eyes snap up to Kuroo, who’s still contently lounging next to his book, eyes closed.

No, that can’t be why Kuroo’s here instead of with Bokuto and Akaashi.

Kei jerks up and practically flies across his room to rip the door open. “You better not be fucking on the couch!” he calls. “I _sit_ there!”

Very guiltily, a half-naked Bokuto looks at him over the backrest, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Akaashi’s face is already buried against his very impressive chest, ears a flaming red. Kei knows that Akaashi is hiding because he’s embarrassed, but he still finds himself a little envious. It is a very nice chest.

“We were just about to head to our room,” Bokuto defends himself, not sounding very convincing with the way he has Akaashi pinned to the cushions.

“Do that then. I need to focus!” Kei grumbles, before slamming his door shut. It’s maybe a little harsh, but he’s tired.

He’s been studying all week, and it’s terribly frustrating to see his two house mates enjoying themselves in the meantime.

He takes a deep breath and mentally, very firmly stomps down on the small spark in his chest that he doesn’t call longing because he would never be so foolish as to feel that way. He’s just exhausted and maybe hasn’t hooked up with anyone in too long. He needs to get his head on straight.

Kuroo meows softly at him as he sits back down. Kei decides to be nice and scratch his ears for a moment. The little beast leans into it and purrs, and it’s almost enough that Kei decides to take a break instead of continuing with this mathematical torture. Almost.

But he needs to get through this, as much as he hates it. Thankfully, Kuroo doesn’t complain when Kei goes back to despairing over his course work.

He does complain an hour later, when Kei his half asleep over his pages upon pages of calculations, and his eyes are burning and his head hurts and he just wants to go to bed but for some reason his result is a negative number which it _really should not be_.

Kuroo, that annoying little bastard, chooses that moment to make everything worse by stepping on his work.

“No,” Kei tries to shoo him off. “Go away. Stupid cat.”

Kuroo meows at him, all contrary, and stomps his paw back down. He doesn’t budge, even when Kei tries to push him away, just brings his paw back down once more. Then again, in the same spot. That’s—curious.

Kei narrows his eyes and takes a closer look at where Kuroo keeps pushing. That’s—

Well, that’s definitely a mistake there. Simple and stupid, probably because he’s so tired, but it explains why his result is all off.

Kei looks up from his miscalculation to their cat. “Kuroo, darling,” he says, very flat and dry. “Explain to me how a cat knows advanced calculus?”

Kuroo meows.

It’s probably the kind of reply Kei should have expected from a cat, but it’s no less frustrating for it. He huffs.

But he supposes Kuroo was helpful just now, so he deserves some pets. Kuroo accepts those gratefully, rubbing himself all over Kei’s work as he keeps chasing after his hands.

It’s cute, but Kei can’t really focus on it. His mind is occupied with other questions.

It’s strange enough just how smart Kuroo is. But it’s even odder that he came to Kei of all people, and that still no one is looking for him. It feels like there’s something going on. Something that Kei doesn’t know about, and it annoys him to no end.

* * *

Something is wrong with Kuroo.

Koutarou is worried that he’s getting sick. Maybe he isn’t moving around enough, stuck in the apartment all day? Or maybe they’re feeding him the wrong food? Maybe cat familiars need different food than regular cats. It would be helpful to know what Kuroo actually is.

All Koutarou knows is that he’s acting weird. Kuroo used to enjoy playing around with him, jumping around all over the place. Everything was fine. But over the last few days, more and more—it hasn’t been that way.

Now Kuroo is just lying around all the time. Staring off into the distance. Sometimes even ducking away when they try to pet him.

Can cats get depression?

Kuroo isn’t even playing with the squeaky mouse toy Koutarou got for him. And it was a really nice one, too! Koutarou was sure Kuroo would love it. Keiji liked the box of chocolates Koutarou got him. And Tsukki didn’t complain about the new mug Koutarou bought, which is as good as saying he liked it.

But Kuroo can’t be tempted into playing with the mouse toy. He used to, in the beginning. But now, the most Koutarou can hope for, when he’s really insistent about putting it in front of Kuroo, is that Kuroo will swipe at it a few times, the rest of his body lying flat. Koutarou knows what Kuroo looks like when he’s having fun, and that’s not it.

He knows that things have gotten really dire when they’re all sitting down for the evening, him and Keiji sprawled out on the couch and Tsukki in his armchair across from them, and even though there are three laps available, Kuroo doesn’t get up from where he’s lying on the ground.

Koutarou glances over at Keiji, and he sees the same worry he feels reflected in his boyfriend’s eyes.

Well, Koutarou has never been great at sitting around when there’s something bothering him. He gets up and crouches down, gently scooping Kuroo up into his arms. Kuroo meows quietly, but otherwise hangs limp. Koutarou settles him back down on his legs when he’s sitting, knees touching with Keiji’s in case Kuroo wants to go over to him. Kuroo just lies back down.

“Maybe we should take him to a vet,” Keiji mumbles, looking away from his book while he’s scratching Kuroo’s chin.

“That will be expensive,” Tsukki points out, without looking up from whatever book he’s buried his nose in.

Koutarou feels annoyance rise up inside of him. Over Tsukki’s nonchalance, like Kuroo being sick doesn’t even matter. Over his own helplessness. Over the situation in general. “That doesn’t matter when Kuroo is sick!” he protests.

Tsukki only shrugs. Keiji stops petting Kuroo to put his hand over Koutarou’s. “We’ll see how he’s doing tomorrow and then decide, yeah?”

It’s a good suggestion. Keiji always has good thoughts.

But this time, Koutarou can’t really follow along with it like he usually does. He’s too frustrated, fire humming beneath his skin and wanting to get out. He’s pissed, at Tsukki and even more so at the asshole who still hasn’t contacted them about wanting Kuroo back.

Koutarou has seen that empty, defeated slump before. Back when Keiji’s family wouldn’t talk to him anymore.

He’s pretty damn sure that Kuroo is sad about the same thing.

Who the hell abandons their _familiar_? One as sweet and affectionate and playful as Kuroo to boot?

Koutarou runs his hand through the fluffy fur that’s always sticking up from Kuroo’s head like a particularly wild haircut, down and down until his fingers find the red leather collar still settled there. Put there by some asshole who can’t even be bothered to come looking for Kuroo. And they checked. They scoured the neighborhood and the internet and the newspaper for anyone missing their familiar or a cat like Kuroo, but they came up empty.

People don’t just _lose_ their familiar.

This has been done on purpose.

And Kuroo is so sad because that asshole isn’t coming back.

“Hey, Kuroo,” he hums, “don’t you want to get rid of this thing?”

The reaction is as immediate as it is unexpected. Koutarou doesn’t even really register what is happening, beyond a really loud, furious hiss. Just, suddenly his lap is empty, and his hand hurts, and there are bloody scratches on it.

Kuroo is at the other end of the room, looking twice his usual size with the way his fur has puffed up, still spitting and hissing like the devil himself has possessed him.

“Kou!” Keiji calls out, worried. He has to be really worried, because he usually doesn’t call Koutarou that unless they’re alone. He feels Keiji taking his hand, tenderly, but he can’t look away from Kuroo.

Kuroo’s fur settles down slowly, shrinking him back down. He ambles a few steps back, before suddenly running off to somewhere else in the apartment.

“What the hell,” Tsukki mutters quietly across from them.

* * *

Tetsurou feels like shit.

And not just because his magic is itching like all hell to be used, or because his body is so small it seems to stifle him. His muscles hurt. Down to his core. Like he’s been holding out his arm for more than a week straight without ever letting it sink down.

He just isn’t used to this anymore. Not to being stuck in one form for so long, and not to having his magic pile up until it’s buzzing in his ears like an angry swarm of hornets.

He wants Kenma back already. He wants to go home.

He hopes their place is okay. Kenma put a ton of protective spells around it, but those can be broken with some time and effort. Tetsurou kind of wants to go to their place, just to check if everything’s alright. Take in the familiar scent and prickle of Kenma’s magic. Maybe curl up beneath all that cloaking and protective magic, like it’s a warm blanket, and finally slip into a different form. Just for a moment.

But if he went back, whatever Kenma told him to hide from might spot him. He could put Kenma’s plan in danger, and with that, Kenma himself. Tetsurou can’t do that.

Even though he wants to go back. Even though he doesn’t understand.

Why would Kenma tell him to hide? Tetsurou is definitely one of the stronger magical beings in this city. Not much can take it up with a part-demon. What the hell is so dangerous that Tetsurou needs to hide away? If Kenma is dealing with something like that, shouldn’t Tetsurou be there with him, helping him?

He wants to ask. But he still can’t reach Kenma.

They haven’t been apart for this long in years. Kenma’s absence tears at Tetsurou, like it’s a hook in his heart that wants him to follow. It’s tearing him into pieces while he’s just sitting around here.

His heart hurts.

His body hurts.

And now there’s _this_ , too. Deep, ugly guilt, choking him up as he’s curled up in the dust mites underneath Tsukki’s bed.

He didn’t mean to hurt Bokuto.

He just—panicked.

Bokuto touched the collar and suddenly wanted to take it off and it’s the only thing Tetsurou has _left_ of Kenma—

It’s a stupid thing. Just a simple collar with a bell on it. Just to make Tetsurou look the part of a familiar. Kenma spelled it so that it will adjust in size for him when he shifts, so Tetsurou can keep it on in his more human forms.

Human form.

Not like he ever shifts into the other one.

Kenma also put a few protective wards on the bell, so Tetsurou can’t get hurt while he’s wearing it and no one can figure out he’s a demon.

He's had it for so long, it doesn’t even smell like Kenma anymore. Just the faintest trace of his magic is left there, when Tetsurou really focuses and twists to get his nose close to it. A thin hint of cinnamon and dark chocolate.

Tetsurou can’t smell it anymore now. Maybe it’s because of all the dust down here.

He stays under the bed all night, even when Tsukki lies down on it and it creaks. He doesn’t feel ready to face Bokuto yet.

He can’t remember losing his temper like that before.

He wants to believe it was just an accident, a one-time thing, but what if it wasn’t? What if after all these years, his demonic blood is breaking through and turning him into a monster? Tetsurou hasn’t been afraid of that since he was a kid, but now—

He’s never hurt someone before. Not like this. Not without meaning to, without being able to stop himself.

He wants to apologize, but even more than that he wants to miserably hide away forever and never have to see anyone again.

But morning comes, and Tetsurou is hungry and thirsty and he can’t stay here forever. He slinks out after Tsukki has already left, silently making his way to the shared living room. To his immense disappointment, Bokuto is there. So is Akaashi, who sends a fierce glare Tetsurou’s way.

Tetsurou supposes he deserves that.

Bokuto, apparently, doesn’t think so. He jumps up as soon as he spots Tetsurou and practically races over to him, before stopping sharply and crouching down. “Sorry for scaring you yesterday, little buddy,” he rumbles, sounding genuinely stricken. He reaches out with one hand and lets it hover in the air between them, like he wants to leave it up to Tetsurou whether he accepts the pets or not. Tetsurou can see the set of gashes that his claws have left on it.

Guiltily, he ducks under Bokuto’s hand and runs his tongue over the scratches. He can’t do much to apologize as a cat, and licking the wound is not going to help any, but he hopes Bokuto at least gets the sentiment. For emphasis, he meows sadly.

Bokuto drags his other hand over Tetsurou’s ears. “It’s alright, bud,” he hums, sounding more cheerful already. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Tetsurou meows again. That doesn’t make it _fine_ , he wants to say, but of course Bokuto doesn’t understand him.

He thinks Kenma would have understood. Kenma always knew what he was trying to say when he was a cat. Even though Kenma is ridiculously bad at speaking cat.

It’s hard to stay stuck on that train of thought, though, when Bokuto gingerly picks him up and cradles him against his chest, all the while still petting him. It’s nice. Tetsurou can’t help but purr, and that, in turn, delights Bokuto.

“Look, look, Keiji, he’s purring again! I think he’s finally cheering up!”

“That’s nice, Koutarou,” Akaashi mutters dryly. The look he sends Tetsurou’s way is still chilly. It seems that more apologies are in order for Akaashi to forgive him for hurting Bokuto.

It doesn’t really surprise Tetsurou. Those two care about each other a lot, even though it took a while for Tetsurou to see how much. Akaashi especially is very reserved about it when someone else is around. He doesn’t even use Bokuto’s first name, and Bokuto does the same in turn.

Apparently they have no such hang-ups with only Kuroo the cat around. Akaashi leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Bokuto’s cheek. “You should get going, or you’ll be late,” he says.

Bokuto squawks and hastily deposits Tetsurou on the ground. “Shit, you’re right!” He runs around the apartment like a madman, gathering his things. Before he rushes out, he presses another kiss to Akaashi’s lips, hurried but still obviously full of affection.

Tetsurou watches them. They’re very sweet together.

Sweet enough to make his chest ache for things he can’t have himself.

* * *

Keiji is very comfortably curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and Kuroo a warm weight in his lap.

Kuroo was hanging all over Koutarou last night, licking his cheek and purring and generally being affectionate, and Keiji can accept at this point that Kuroo has to feel very sorry about hurting Koutarou. And more importantly, that it won’t happen again, hopefully.

It’s nice to be on good terms with their small companion again, especially since Keiji has gotten used to falling asleep with not one, but two warm bodies to cuddle with. It’s also very nice that whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night, Kuroo seems to wake up as well, instantly pressing to Keiji’s chest and purring until he can breathe properly again.

It’s—comforting.

Keiji knows that they won’t be able to keep Kuroo forever, but even though he’s the one who keeps telling Koutarou to not get too attached, he’s grown very fond of the cat himself.

It’s a problem for another day, he has decided.

Today is about nicer things. He’s all caught up with his course work, so he’s treating himself to one of his own books for once. It’s a murder mystery that is skillfully building on a few supernatural elements without completely botching them, and he’s quite happy that the book is as good as he expected it to be. He’s only halfway through, with a suspicion who the murderer is, but really it could be anyone. He can’t wait to get to the end of it.

He’ll have to take a break soon. His arms hurt from holding the book at such a low, awkward angle that Kuroo can also see the pages. Whenever Keiji holds the book higher, Kuroo meows in complaint and paws at him until he can read along. Keiji has resigned himself to the fact that this is happening.

He wonders if he could write out all the suspects’ names and ask Kuroo who he thinks the murderer is. It’s an intriguing thought that he could, possibly, ask their cat’s opinion on this. Ignoring how weird it is that Kuroo is a _cat_.

When he hears a key in the door, he decides that now might be a good opportunity to take that break. He puts in the bookmark Koutarou got him last year—it’s enchanted to not fall out and keep the pages from creasing—and pats Kuroo’s head when the cat meows unhappily.

“If I read more later, I’ll tell you,” he promises, carding his fingers through the silky fur. Some of it always hangs over Kuroo’s right eye, no matter how often Keiji tries to brush it aside. He hopes it’s not bothering Kuroo too much.

“I’m home,” Tsukishima announces himself as he steps inside, company in tow. “I brought Yamaguchi.”

Tsukishima told Keiji about that two days ago, when he first made plans for that. Keiji appreciates the notice ahead of time.

“Welcome back,” he greets. “Hello, Yamaguchi-san.”

“Hello, Akaashi-kun,” Yamaguchi returns politely, taking off his shoes. His eyes fall on Kuroo and he smiles. “Hey, Kuroo. Long time no see.”

Kuroo meows. He arches his back in a long line before jumping off Keiji’s lap without a sound. Not even the bell around his throat rings. Keiji hears it only very rarely.

Kuroo skitters over to the two, rubbing against Tsukishima’s legs until the man relents and pets his head. “Yeah yeah, I’m back. Go bother Akaashi again.”

Kuroo meows and traipses over to Yamaguchi instead, who looks happy to pet and scratch him all over.

“Did you guys still not hear from Hinata or Kageyama? Or Kuroo’s owner?” Yamaguchi asks. He looks up from pampering Kuroo, a concerned frown pulling at his face.

“Still nothing,” Tsukishima sighs with a shrug. “We’re going to have cat hair on everything at this rate.”

Kuroo meows loudly, tail swishing, as if he wants to protest that statement.

Tsukishima gives him a cold look. “Don’t act like it’s not true, Kuroo.”

Keiji decides to leave him to argue with the cat, if that’s what he wants to do. “Are you doing alright, Yamaguchi-san?” he asks instead. It has been a while since Tsukishima last brought him over, but seeing as he’s the only one Tsukishima ever invites to their place at all, Keiji knows that he has to be an important friend.

Yamaguchi jerks at being addressed, laughing nervously. “Oh yes, thank you. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. I’ve seen Kuroo so much over at Hinata’s place, I can’t believe I never caught who he belongs to.”

“Well, they’ll have to contact us at some point,” Tsukishima mutters. “Probably.”

Keiji’s mood dims a little. He still doesn’t feel good about the entire idea of no one coming to pick Kuroo up. It’s not that Keiji doesn’t like having him around. It’s just—it seems cruel, that anyone would abandon their cat like this. Especially if Kuroo should be someone’s familiar, but that’s still something Keiji can’t entirely wrap his mind around.

“Anyway,” Tsukishima says, “we’ll be in my room studying.”

Keiji nods, and Tsukishima trots off with Yamaguchi right behind him.

Kuroo slinks back into Keiji’s lap, pawing at the book. He meows, blinking up at Keiji cutely.

Keiji can’t help but smile and pet his head. “Yes, let’s keep going, hm?”

They read for almost an hour longer. Then Keiji decides that his arms are getting too tired and he’s too interested in whether Kuroo shares his suspicions or not. He has just gotten a sheet of paper and written down the names of all characters, when the door opens and Koutarou comes inside. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and his hair is messy from the brisk wind. Keiji’s heart instantly beats a little faster.

“Man, it’s getting terrible outside,” Koutarou whines.

Kuroo meows and bounds over to him. Koutarou immediately picks him up, as he always does, and Kuroo clambers up on his shoulders. He rubs his face against Koutarou’s cheeks, purring.

“Ah, you’re so warm,” Koutarou sighs happily, fingers scratching under Kuroo’s chin. His eyes meet Keiji’s and he smiles gently. “Hey.”

“Welcome back,” Keiji says. “Tsukishima and Yamaguchi-san are here.”

Koutarou acknowledges him with a nod. “I’m starving, Akaashi,” he whines then, going back to petting Kuroo who seems to have gotten quite comfortable on his shoulders. “You going to make dinner?”

“Okay,” Keiji agrees, temporarily abandoning his murder suspect project. “You can ask Tsukishima and Yamaguchi-san if they want something, too.”

“I will,” Koutarou agrees happily, skipping off with Kuroo still perched on his shoulders like he belongs there.

Drawn by the promise of food, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi show up a moment later, Bokuto behind them. “They want some!”

“Thank you for cooking for us,” Yamaguchi chirps politely. He watches curiously as Keiji grabs his book and paper to take back to his and Koutarou’s room. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I was going to ask Kuroo who he thinks the murderer is in the book we’re reading,” Keiji explains. He walks a few steps, then notes the strange silence and turns back.

Yamaguchi’s expression has gone very confused. “I don’t think cats can do that,” he says, very slowly, like he’s considering each word individually.

Well. Now Keiji definitely has to know. He puts the sheet with the names down on the living room table. “Kuroo, who do you think the murderer is?”

Kuroo looks at him from where he’s hanging on Koutarou’s shoulder like the world’s largest, furriest parrot. Keiji is just beginning to worry that he might have embarrassed himself, when Kuroo jumps down to the table in one fluid motion. He puts his paw down on the paper and meows.

Keiji leans forward so he can read the name. He hums in consideration. “Yes, I’m also thinking the baron is the one who did it.”

Kuroo nods.

“I think he’s doing it to hide an affair with the countess,” Keiji adds, too intrigued to stop now. He can never get Koutarou or Tsukishima to discuss his books with him. Koutarou doesn’t have the patience for long novels and Tsukishima is not a fan of the genre, saying it’s too cliché.

Kuroo shakes his head now, and instead puts his paw on a different name.

“The investigator’s wife?” Keiji asks in surprise. “I had not considered that.” But, now that he’s thinking about it—it would make sense. “Wait. Are you saying the baron has an affair with her, or the countess?”

Kuroo puts his paws on the investigator’s wife and the countess both and blinks up at Keiji with his little cat eyes.

Keiji has to admit it’s a good thought. If those two are having an affair, it _would_ explain why the countess keeps lying about her alibi and knows more about the investigation than she should. “Interesting,” he mutters. “Now we’ll have to finish the book soon. I want to know if you’re right.”

Kuroo meows and blinks at him slowly. It almost looks to Keiji, strange as it is, like he’s smiling.

Yamaguchi looks a little pale. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he stutters, “but I’m _really_ sure cats can’t do that.”

Keiji shrugs, and Koutarou does the same. “Kuroo is smart,” Koutarou says, which is something they have all accepted by now.

Yes, Kuroo is too smart for a regular cat. It’s probably just because he’s a familiar, or maybe a lower spirit enjoying the spoiled life of a pet. That’s just how it is. Keiji is very happy he can share his books with Kuroo like this.

It doesn’t entirely distract him from his worry that still no one has tried to get Kuroo back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter already! Whoo!  
> I like throwing in small hints like breadcrumbs, for stuff that will later come to bite us in the ass. Maybe you guys have spotted a few ;)  
> Anyway, sorry this one is kinda short. I promise something more exciting will happen next time!


	4. Catboy Trope Actually Never Overdone, Trends Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I'm really happy so many people enjoyed the last chapter! I hope you'll like this one as well <3  
> Things finally happen and I honestly forgot how ridiculously grim-dark everything is. When I wrote this I was highkey procrastinating writing my thesis and apparently my inner muse really needed to work out some drama

“We should get a scratching post,” Kei points out one morning, during the scarce five minutes that all of them are gathered at the table before Kei has to run for his train.

He looks up from his cereal, only to be met by Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s wide eyes, surprise evident in both their faces. It makes Kei a little uncomfortable, and that doesn’t get better when Akaashi’s lips curl into a knowing smile.

Kei looks away before his cheeks can heat up.

“You want to keep Kuroo!” Bokuto blurts out then, like the realization is something very grand. “Akaashi, Akaashi, did you hear that? Tsukki wants to buy presents for our cat!”

“I just don’t want him to claw up any of my shit,” Kei grouses, glaring back down at his cereal. Even so, it’s impossible to ignore Bokuto’s overly excited bouncing.

There really is no need to read so much into Kei spending five minutes on Google and reading up on cats.

The room is silent, for a moment, and then there’s a happy little sigh from Bokuto. Even without having to look, Kei knows Akaashi just did something sappy to calm the idiot down.

Those two are so disgustingly in love with each other that it’s hard to bear sometimes. Kei is so tired and stressed from uni and work already that it really just—

He doesn’t even want to look at them, sitting all close and sickeningly sweet on the couch, probably making gooey eyes at each other, while Kei is—

Kei is not going to deal with that, actually.

He’s a smart person and he knows better. He has more important things to think about, anyway, like work and exams and his next assignment. He’s busy.

He is too busy to even care about any of this.

He grabs his half-finished cereal, mumbles his goodbyes, and flees into the kitchen.

* * *

Tsukki is in his room studying, so it’s just Koutarou and Keiji. And Kuroo, who has curled up into one large ball of black fluff to nap on Koutarou’s lap. He looks very cute and peaceful that way, and Koutarou is more than happy to keep running his fingers through the soft fur and feel more than hear his near-silent purring.

It’s Keiji’s turn to pick the movie today and Koutarou has to admit that he’s—maybe—close to dozing off. He’s not quite as fascinated by the romantic mystery as Keiji is.

That’s okay, though. Keiji is leaning against his shoulder and obviously having fun, and that’s what’s most important. All in all, Koutarou would call it an almost perfect evening.

It could only be improved, possibly, by Tsukki joining them to make a few snarky remarks about the movie, which would give Keiji someone to talk to and Koutarou enough conversation to stay awake. Instead, Tsukki opens his door at some point, looking tired and annoyed, to dart into the kitchen and grab something to drink.

He shoots them a glare on his way back to his room. That part is a little bit less than ideal.

Once their movie is over—and after Keiji has nudged him a few times to wake him up again—Koutarou yawns and curls closer to him.

Kuroo makes a small sound of protest at being shifted around. Koutarou tries to make it up to him by petting his ears, cooing.

Keiji is smiling softly at them, in that beautiful, privately happy way that Koutarou loves so much.

“Did you have fun?” Koutarou asks, voice a little rough from disuse and, uh. Not quite being asleep.

“Yeah,” Keiji hums. He turns off the TV where the news is playing now, something awful about a woman jogging out in the woods and being attacked by a demon. The sound cuts off along with the image, and the room goes very dark without the light of the screen. Quiet, too. Everything feels soft and warm and intimate, like they are wrapped up in a bubble of cotton together. Koutarou leans closer to Keiji, who slides his arms over his shoulders.

Their lips meet, once, softly.

Koutarou sighs happily, eyes slowly slipping closed as they kiss a few more times.

When they pull back, he knows that the blissful little smile on Keiji’s lips is mirrored on his own.

“You could have told me the movie was too boring for you,” Keiji says quietly.

Koutarou shakes his head. “I had fun spending time with you,” he murmurs. Keiji’s expression softens at that, which is good. “Love you,” Koutarou adds with a smile and leans in for another kiss.

“Love you, too,” Keiji whispers against his lips.

Their next kiss is even softer than the last one. Koutarou feels a little bit sad when he has to pull back because Kuroo is squirming around in his lap. He lifts the cat up to his eyes, unable to help his chuckle over how put off Kuroo looks.

“Aw, don’t worry. I love you, too,” Koutarou coos, pressing a kiss to Kuroo’s forehead and immediately regretting it when he ends up with fur in his mouth.

It makes Keiji laugh, though, which totally makes it worth it in Koutarou’s book.

“You’re the greatest cat ever. I shall stop at nothing to protect you and your happiness,” he continues on, booping his nose against Kuroo’s. It’s less furry that way.

Unfortunately, Kuroo stops hanging limply in his hold at that and squirms around until Koutarou lets go of him. Kuroo shoots him one more look from unreadable golden eyes, before he jumps off the couch and walks away. Maybe he’s already getting comfortable in their bed, which Koutarou thinks would be very cute.

Even though Koutarou’s legs feel cold without him.

But it’s maybe not all bad that Kuroo left. It might make the upcoming conversation a little less awkward. It will be easier to not have Kuroo watching them, understanding every word they say. Koutarou doesn’t mind much, but he knows Keiji does.

And he knows they’re going to talk about this again, even before Keiji starts speaking. He might have dozed through most of the movie, but the memory of Tsukki’s stressed-out glare is still very clear. Really, Koutarou can’t believe they didn’t think of this sooner.

He knows what he wants to do, and he can see it in Keiji’s expression that he’s thinking about it, too.

* * *

Tetsurou is starting to get better at this, he thinks. The ache in his body is getting worse, but it’s not too bad so long as he doesn’t move around much. He just needs to plop down on someone’s lap or curl himself over Bokuto’s shoulders, and then Bokuto, Akaashi, and Tsukki are usually willing to accept that he’s just lazy, instead of worrying if he’s sick.

Tetsurou really hopes they’ve forgotten about taking him to the vet by now. He’s quite confident in his cat form, but he has no clue how well it will hold up to a medical professional.

He's pretty sure the only reason he’s been able to keep up this farce for as long as he has is because neither of his three caretakers have any clue about cats. And everything particularly weird he does, they pin on him being a familiar.

Tetsurou thinks he chose this place well. They spoil him, and they’re good people, and they don’t have the first clue that cats usually don’t read or do calculus, familiar or not.

So all in all, Tetsurou thinks he’s handling this quite well.

That is until one afternoon, while he’s contently lazing around on Akaashi’s lap, Akaashi’s legs shift beneath him, eyes narrowing in thought. “Something smells weird,” Akaashi says, head turning around the room.

“Wasn’t me!” Bokuto protests immediately.

Tsukki’s nose crinkles up in that really endearing way it always does when he’s annoyed but also a little amused and doesn’t want to show it. “Ew.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Not like that. It’s kind of—not spicy, but—” His eyes narrow further as he thinks.

Tetsurou’s blood runs cold as realization hits him.

Akaashi is smelling _magic_ , and since no one in this room as much of it except for Tetsurou, that means he’s absolutely not keeping this shit under wraps like he should be.

He clamps down on it, hard and sudden, but the damage is already done.

Akaashi lifts him up from his lap and sniffs at his fur. “Kuroo smells like magic,” he says, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

“Really?” Bokuto is next to them immediately, almost burying his nose against Tetsurou’s side. “I don’t smell anything.”

“I’m sure,” Akaashi says.

“Is that—bad?” Tsukki asks, leaning closer as well.

Akaashi shrugs and gently settles Tetsurou back down on his lap, carding his fingers through his fur. “I’m not sure. Familiars have some magic, but just now Kuroo’s was—different from before. Maybe it’s because his partner hasn’t used it for so long.”

That is definitely what is happening here. Familiar or no, Kenma was brilliant about tying Tetsurou’s magic up in spells and making sure all of it looked innocent and legit enough. Not the tiniest hint of demon peeking through.

But after a month without Kenma, Tetsurou is overflowing with power. Like wanting to run after sitting still all day—not that he wants to do much of that with the way his body is aching.

He needs to do something with all this power. Needs to shift. But if he uses his magic, someone could find him. Especially without Kenma there to hide all demonic traces. Tetsurou could bring a world of trouble down on himself, and worse, he could make things worse for Kenma.

So no magic. He's just going to pretend that he’s a perfectly normal cat. No big deal.

He meows as innocently as possible.

Akaashi doesn’t seem to be suspicious of him, at least, because he just goes right back to petting him.

“So it is bad, kind of, right?” Bokuto asks, hand sneaking down to surreptitiously touch Akaashi’s. Tetsurou knows, because suddenly there isn’t much petting happening anymore.

Akaashi lets out a quiet, frustrated sound. “I really don’t know, Bo.”

Tsukki sighs heavily. “Whatever. We can’t do much right now. I’ll go back to studying.” He gets up to leave, and something weird goes on then.

The hand in Tetsurou’s fur tenses oddly, and when he looks up, Akaashi and Bokuto are exchanging very mysterious glances. Tetsurou has spent a fair amount of time learning their tells and expressions, but this time he has no clue what is going on.

Akaashi and Bokuto seem to arrive at some sort of agreement, though.

Bokuto clears his throat. “Uh, Tsukki.”

Tsukki stops and turns, brows raised. “Yeah.”

“We’ve been thinking,” Bokuto says. Trails off. Licks his lips. “Since you’ve seemed kind of stressed lately—”

Tsukki’s brows rise up further.

“We were wondering if you wanted to spend the night with us again. Might help us all relax,” Akaashi says.

Tetsurou stops breathing for a second there. Akaashi is usually very subtle, and this is subtle, and it might be all very innocent, just a huge sleepover between friends, but the implications are—

The implications have him very hot beneath all his fur, suddenly, and his magic wails against his hold like a storm, because he’s not thinking cat thoughts right now, he’s thinking thoughts that very much make him want to have a more human body. His skin and fur burn like hell as he tries to keep it together, blood rushing in his ears.

He can’t even hear what Tsukki says next, too busy breathing and trying to stay calm and cool and rational and an innocent little kitten. Think cat thoughts. Unsexy thoughts. Cleaning the shower drain. Dust mites beneath Tsukki’s bed. Old socks. That terribly awful cat kibble they keep feeding him—

Akaashi moves, and Tetsurou only notices by the time he’s hitting the ground, every muscle tense and screaming at him. His head is swimming, but the pain helps.

Here he is. Just a little cat. No problem at all.

He rises up to his paws and shakes out his fur for good measure. Arches his back and then startles when he finds three sets of eyes looking at him, wide and shocked.

Akaashi is already bending down to pat his fluffy fur back down. “I’m sorry, Kuroo,” he murmurs, and really sounds the part.

Well, it’s not Akaashi’s fault that Tetsurou is beginning to lose control of this form. He meows and presses himself to Akaashi’s legs, hoping that will help bring his point across.

They all still look uncharacteristically worried, though.

* * *

Keiji can still feel his leg muscles much more than he ever wants to feel them.

He blames it on Koutarou being way too enthusiastic last night. They probably were too loud, too. Now Tsukishima will be either very annoyed or very excited to join them again. Personally, Keiji is hoping for the latter.

But there are more pressing matters to attend to.

Soon as he hears the knock, he’s hurrying over to the door.

“Is that him?” Koutarou calls after him, as if they won’t all find out at the same time once he opens the door.

Tsukishima peeks his head out of his room. Good. Keiji doesn’t know if he’d be able to explain the problem all on his own.

His eyes are drawn to Kuroo, who’s lying on the ground near the kitchen and apparently can’t be bothered to move once again. He went down like a rock when Keiji stood up yesterday. Keiji still feels a little bad about that, but more than that he’s confused. Kuroo wasn’t asleep, and he usually lands on his feet like it’s no issue at all.

It just cements Keiji’s worries that something is wrong.

Hopefully now they will be able to figure out what.

He opens the door and before he can even say anything, something small and furry shoots past his legs.

“Yuu, no!” their visitor shouts, half falling inside. Surprised, Keiji steps out of his way.

A small dog—a Pomeranian, Keiji thinks—is barking up a storm as it whirls through their apartment, chasing after Kuroo who is definitely not lying around listlessly now. Instead, their cat is shooting up Tsukishima in a flash, perching on his shoulders and then hissing at the small dog from there.

“I am so sorry,” Azumane presses out, almost stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to take off his shoes and race inside to grab the fuzzy dog. It doesn’t stop barking, even as Azumane frantically shushes it and mutters something about manners and neighbors and noise complaints.

Keiji is a little bit stunned. Azumane is always such a nice, calm, _sensible_ person. The dog is very unexpectedly—loud.

“So, you’re Akaashi’s friend,” Koutarou takes over the task of starting conversation, while Keiji still tries to collect himself.

“I, yes, I’m—” Azumane tries, futilely, to quiet the dog down and press it against his chest and reach out a hand in greeting all at once, “Azumane Asahi. This here is—Yuu, quiet, please—Nishinoya Yuu.”

Koutarou’s eyes go wide with amazement. “Your dog has a family name?”

“Uh, he’s,” Azumane visibly struggles to explain, as the dog has suddenly gone from barking to slobbering all over his face. “He’s a shape shifter—Yuu, please, behave, I am begging you—”

The dog, Nishinoya, yips happily and goes back to slobbering.

Keiji makes his way over, worriedly taking in how startled and put off Kuroo looks. He’s all poofed up and standing on Tsukishima’s shoulder like the man’s height is the only thing he trusts to keep him safe. They do, admittedly, look cute together like that. Despite the sour expression on Tsukishima’s face, he seems content to have Kuroo trust him like that.

“Yuu. _Yuu_. Come on, buddy, please,” Azumane is still furtively talking to the dog, who seems to have finally calmed down a little. It yips again, and then it fizzles around the edges. Before Keiji’s eyes, the dog turns into a cat.

Well.

“Awesome!” Koutarou calls out, jumping closer. The new cat, short-haired and white with a few spots, arches towards him eagerly.

Azumane glances over at Keiji with the most apologetic expression on his face. “I’m so sorry about this. Yuu gets excited sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Keiji waves him off. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, but they do have more important matters to discuss.

Koutarou scoots even closer. “Say, is it okay if I hold him?”

Azumane glances down at the cat squirming in his arms, obviously trying to get to Koutarou. “Oh, uh. Sure.” The moment his hold loosens just a little, the cat is jumping over into Koutarou’s arms, who catches it with giddy excitement. Keiji isn’t sure which one of the two looks more ecstatic.

Azumane seems ready to keel over. “Again, I am so sorry,” he mutters, shoulders slumping in defeat or exhaustion or maybe both.

“So, you study together with Akaashi?” Koutarou asks, not bothered in the slightest by the cat climbing all over his shirt.

“Uh, yeah. I’m a literature major as well. Akaashi-san mentioned to me that you found a cat and weren’t quite sure what kind of creature it is and that you’re worried it might be sick. I offered to take a look. I don’t know much, but I’ve picked up a few things about magical creatures and healing their injuries. You wouldn’t believe how often Yuu gets hurt—” Azumane explains.

Tsukishima shoots Keiji a dry look that says he can very much believe it. Keiji suppresses his answering smile, but Tsukishima probably caught it. Azumane then turns around to Tsukishima, too, taking in Kuroo’s still puffed up form.

Kuroo looks honestly pissed about this Nishinoya climbing all over Koutarou, with the way he’s glaring at them. Again, Keiji wonders just how smart and aware their cat is, and if this means he’s jealous.

Not that Kuroo is _their_ cat.

He’s someone’s cat. Someone else’s.

Kuroo isn’t theirs.

“So, this is the patient?” Azumane asks, holding up one hand to let Kuroo sniff at it.

“Yes,” Keiji answers. “He’s been strange lately. Only lying around and his reflexes are off.”

Azumane nods, thoughtful. “And how was he before? How long have you had him?”

“We found him about two weeks ago. He was very affectionate,” Keiji says.

“The best cat!” Koutarou pipes in.

“An attention whore,” Tsukishima says dryly.

Azumane looks startled by the word, but he gasps out a surprised chuckle. “I see. And you said you don’t know what he is, exactly?”

“We think he might be someone’s familiar,” Tsukishima answers, sliding one hand along Kuroo’s side. “He had the collar when he came here. Just showed up at the doorstep one evening.”

“We’ve been trying to find his partner, but we’re not getting an answer,” Keiji mutters, standing firm when Azumane turns around to him with the same amount of shocked confusion on his face that he feels himself.

Like he can’t really believe there’s a mage out there who doesn’t have his familiar around anymore and then has done nothing to get it back.

But Azumane shakes it off quickly. “Alright, let’s see then. Kuroo, would you like to come to me for a moment?” He holds out his arms. Kuroo looks at him and then steps over into his grasp like a very magnanimous king, who has granted his unworthy subject the great honor of touching him.

This time, Keiji can’t suppress his smile.

Azumane settles down on the couch with Kuroo perched on his knees. “Yuu,” he calls.

The cat on Koutarou’s shoulder twists. Koutarou squawks in wonder as it turns into a sparrow and flutters over to Azumane. Kuroo looks like he wants to swipe at it, but as soon as it gets near, it’s suddenly a cat again.

Nishinoya looks much smaller next to Kuroo, especially with all of Kuroo’s fluffy fur.

“Help me out here for a moment, yeah?” Azumane asks. Nishinoya the cat presses to his side. Then Azumane begins to mutter.

Keiji feels the prickle of magic instantly. It’s much stronger than what he caught from Kuroo a few days ago, and the smell of fresh berries and spring permeates the air in a matter of seconds. Something rears its head inside of Keiji’s chest that he does not dare call homesickness.

The spell isn’t particularly long or complicated. Keiji even catches some of the words.

“So, I think you’re right about this being a familiar,” Azumane mutters, leaning down towards Kuroo with a far-away look in his eyes. “There’s definitely a magical connection here to someone else, even though it feels a little odd. I could probably try to track them, especially if the collar is from the same person—”

Keiji finds himself startling and stepping forward before he knows it. His mouth is open to—

To what? Protest? It’s not like they can just keep someone else’s familiar to themselves. They should be trying as hard as they can to get Kuroo back home.

But now that the option is there, right in front of them, he finds that he doesn’t want to take it.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to decide. Soon as the words leave Azumane’s mouth, Kuroo meows loudly and jumps off his knees. The bell on his collar rings. Keiji thinks, off-handedly, that he doesn’t hear it ring very often. Kuroo is very silent, usually.

Now, Kuroo is slipping behind Tsukishima’s legs, glaring at Azumane as if daring him to come any closer.

“Okay—so I guess we’re not doing that, then,” Azumane mutters, looking even more confused than before. Keiji shares the sentiment.

What kind of familiar doesn’t want to get back to their partner?

Next to Azumane, Nishinoya meows. Azumane glances down at him and sighs heavily. “Uh, fine. But be nice, and don’t break anything.”

With that, Nishinoya dashes off in Kuroo’s direction, apparently elated at having a playmate. Keiji is a little worried, but surprisingly enough, Kuroo meows happily as they begin chasing each other around the apartment.

“Dude!” Koutarou near-shouts, plopping himself down right next to Azumane who appears very startled at the enthusiastic grin Koutarou is sporting. “That was amazing! And Nishinoya is so great! Can he turn into anything? Can he turn into _people_?”

“Oh, uh,” Azumane fumbles, “mostly small animals. Nothing very big or magical. He has a human form, but he hasn’t been feeling it lately. He’s—very nice once you get to know him, I swear, he just has a lot of energy—”

They hear something hit the wall with a heavy thud. Keiji really hopes they didn’t break anything. And that Kuroo didn’t get hurt.

“That’s all very fascinating,” Tsukishima cuts in. “But what about Kuroo? Do you know if he’s sick?”

Azumane fidgets uncomfortably beneath Tsukishima’s sharp eyes. “I’m not sure, to be honest? I don’t have any professional training. I just learned a few spells here and there, mostly healing stuff because Yuu keeps running into trouble. Your cat’s magic felt a little off, but that’s probably to be expected after being away from his partner for so long. I don’t know if that’s what’s making him sick, or if he’s sick at all or just—sad.”

There’s a very pregnant pause after the last word. Even Koutarou is silent.

No one dares to say it.

That they have a familiar here and that Kuroo’s partner should be tearing heaven and earth apart trying to get him back, but they’re not even getting a text. That Kuroo was perfectly affectionate in the beginning but these days he’s mostly gloomily staring off into the distance.

He’s probably just dealing with being kicked out in his own, cat way. Except, Keiji still can’t entirely believe that.

There’s no way that someone just doesn’t care about losing their familiar. Keiji can’t imagine it. There has to be something more going on, something that they’re just not seeing.

“I can put some general healing and recovery spells on him,” Azumane offers after a while, very quietly. “If he is sick in any way, that should help.”

“Thank you, Azumane-san,” Keiji says. “We’d appreciate that.”

There are a few more loud, very suspicious noises from the cats in the following time, before the two strut back into the room. Kuroo looks frazzled and completely out of breath, but he purrs like a sewing machine when he plops himself down on Keiji’s legs. Nishinoya is very proudly holding Kuroo’s squeaky mouse toy in his mouth and Azumane and Koutarou spend the better part of ten minutes wrestling it away from him.

By the time they’re done, Kuroo has already fallen asleep on Keiji’s lap, his tail twitching ever so slightly from time to time.

Azumane speaks a few spells over him, as promised, and then he leaves. He almost stumbles over Nishinoya weaving between his legs on his way out.

They sit together, quietly, for a while longer.

“So, I suppose tonight you’re taking Kuroo to bed with you again, instead of me,” Tsukishima murmurs eventually.

Koutarou breaks out into a snicker, quiet enough that he doesn’t disturb Kuroo.

Keiji nods, running his fingers over the tips of Kuroo’s ears. “We should probably go to sleep,” he mumbles, already halfway there himself, and Koutarou hums a sound of agreement into his ear.

“You’re right, ‘Kaashi,” he rumbles. Yawns. “So smart.”

Now it’s Tsukishima’s turn to chuckle. “You two really do fit together.”

Keiji is happy to find that there’s nothing uncomfortable about hearing that from Tsukishima. He still worries a lot about what other people might think or say about them. Might do about them. When he and Koutarou decided to share the larger room and rented the free one out to Tsukishima, it took months until they admitted to their relationship.

It’s comfortable now, with the three of them.

With him and Koutarou, and Tsukishima occasionally joining them. And Kuroo a part of their odd little family.

“You know,” Koutarou huffs, voice a bit sharper than before. “If that asshole ever shows up to take Kuroo back, I’m not letting him.” His hand, rough and large and so, so warm, settles over Keiji’s, both resting on Kuro’s soft fur. “He’ll have to go through me.”

It’s a silly thought. Them keeping someone away from their familiar.

But neither he nor Tsukishima protest, and that is very telling on its own.

* * *

The small bell rings as Kenma holds out the collar to him.

“Sorry about this. I know you’re not just a cat—”

“Hey, hey,” Tetsurou cuts him off, leaning forward and taking Kenma’s hands in his own, collar and all. “It’s no problem. We gotta look the part, right? That is, _I_ do.”

Kenma nods. His lips stay pursed in that unhappy little frown, though, and his expression only tightens when Tetsurou turns into a cat and he fastens the collar around Tetsurou’s throat.

“I spelled it,” he mutters under his breath. “It should be comfortable, at least.”

Tetsurou shifts back to his more human form—the one that Kenma once, jokingly, when he was very tired, called the catboy form. The collar adjusts in size seamlessly, fitting like a charm.

“It’s great!” Tetsurou assures Kenma readily. He pokes his finger against the bell, making it ring again. Again and again.

Until Kenma looks more annoyed by the noise than by what they just did. But still unhappy. Tetsurou cocks his head to the side.

“But say, Kenma,” he purrs, waiting until he has his friend’s full attention. “Does this make me look sexy?”

Kenma huffs, and pinches his side, even as Tetsurou doubles over with raucous laughter. The bell around his throat jingles with it.

“Idiot,” is what Kenma should say here, or some other well-meant insult tinged with fondness, but instead Kenma is suddenly all fuzzy around the edges and see-through. His eyes are wide and he looks paler than usual.

“We don’t have much time,” Kenma gasps, and Tetsurou’s heart turns to ice. “You need to hide. Right away. Don’t come back and don’t come looking for m—”

Kenma’s voice breaks off the same moment as his body goes up in smoke.

Tetsurou reaches out for him, but he’s too late.

* * *

Keiji is very comfortable where he is. His bed is soft and very warm, with one solid weight pressed to his back and another against his front. He’s not quite asleep anymore, but also not fully awake yet, and he’s very much enjoying it that way.

The peace is broken by Koutarou’s sudden, ungodly _scream_ behind him.

Keiji’s eyes fly open, chest tight with panic, the world still out of focus. He can hear Tsukishima’s steps outside in the hallway, running their way, and in front of him Kuroo is—

Kuroo isn’t there. Instead there’s—

Keiji’s brain is struggling to understand what is happening.

By the time a heaving Tsukishima throws their door open, it’s settling in.

There’s a stranger in front of him.

A complete, total stranger.

A man.

A _naked_ man.

Opening his eyes even more blearily than Keiji has.

Keiji is hissing out a cutting spell between his teeth, the fingers of his right hand tensing as the magic takes hold.

The strange man makes an inappropriately confused sound as his eyes open all the way to Keiji looming over him, arm raised in preparation for a strike that could lop off his head if necessary. He looks at that, for a long moment, before he jerks away in sudden shock, hands raised defensively. “Whoah, hey!”

As he moves, the bell around his throat rings.

The small silver bell, on the red leather collar around his throat. There’s dark, messy hair on his head, with two black, triangular ears poking out of it instead of human ones. His eyes are a golden brown, pupils slitted and very small as fear begins to creep into his expression.

Again, Keiji’s brain struggles to comprehend.

“That’s Kuroo,” Tsukishima says, tonelessly.

Those are words that Keiji has been thinking, but absolutely did not want to hear.

“What?” Koutarou asks, somewhere behind him, shocked and disbelieving. Keiji understands.

It’s madness to think so. He really wants to turn around and agree with Koutarou, but he also can’t bring himself to take his eyes off the naked man in their bed or let his spelled hand sink.

The man’s not very human ears droop down as he slowly takes in the situation himself. He musters his own hands with something akin to horror.

“Uh, hello there,” he drawls then, maybe going for funny or friendly but it comes out very thin. Scratchy. Choked up.

Koutarou is leaning in closer, close enough that Keiji can feel his warmth at his shoulder. “Dude, no way that’s our cat. What did you do to Kuroo, huh?”

The guy looks like he really wants to shuffle away even further, if the headboard wasn’t in his way. For a second, Keiji’s eyes are drawn down to movement at the guy’s waist, where a thick, fluffy tail has curled over his most private parts.

“Dude,” the man sputters, “I know this is weird, for me more than for you, but I am _obviously_ your cat.”

“ _Lies_ ,” Koutarou spits out fiercely. He doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

For a reason. If this man didn’t have a very human body, he _would_ obviously be Kuroo. The ears, the tail, the collar, even his eyes—Keiji is sifting frantically through his memories, trying to remember if there are any other clues they can lean on to test if this man is telling the truth.

He decides, then, that he’ll leave this task up to the man himself. “Prove it.”

The man blinks. “Uh. What should I—” His ears twitch, in a sort of very sad and endearing way. Keiji is drawn to petting them. Kuroo loves having his ears petted. But when Keiji moves forward, the man scrambles back. “Hey, wait, no no no, don’t kill me!”

With no small degree of embarrassment, Keiji remembers the cutting spell. Right. No petting yet.

“Okay, okay,” the man is scrambling, still all twitchy. “So I’ve been living here for a while, right? Your good little Kuroo? You found me in the rain. You made me scrambled eggs that first evening. Akaashi, you let me read with you sometimes, and Bokuto, you love to play with me and—I am so sorry for scratching you by the way—Tsukki—can I call you Tsukki?—you study so hard for your business degree and I have no idea how you focus, these two are _so loud_ when they’re fucking—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Keiji squawks to cut him off. There’s a badly stifled chuckle from the doorway and Keiji glares at Tsukishima before he’s bodily tackled by Koutarou.

“Holy shit, our cute little cat turned into a hot guy,” Koutarou wails, which Keiji really wants to comfort him about, but—he’s not quite sure what to say, because that is, apparently, what has happened. And he has no idea how to deal with that.

He supposes, the first thing to do is to let go of that cutting spell, before he accidentally hurts someone.

The instant he does, the man’s ears perk up. “So, does that mean you believe me?” he asks, caught somewhere between excited and wary.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Keiji mutters. The next moment, he’s tackled again, because _Kuroo_ , apparently, is no less intent on sitting in his lap now that he’s a naked man.

Resolutely, Keiji grabs one of the soft ears, ignores how familiar it feels between his fingers, and pulls it up.

“We’re not done,” he forces out. “You don’t get to turn from a cat into a man without explanation.”

Kuroo gives him a very sad pout. It would work, if Keiji wasn’t so experienced in dealing with Koutarou’s equally adorable pouts. “Hey, it’s not like I meant for this to happen!” Kuroo the naked man defends himself, which—not good enough.

“So what are you, then?” Tsukishima asks, cautiously edging closer to the bed. Keiji thanks the heavens that he’s not the only sane person in the room.

“Uh,” the expression on Kuroo’s face is carefully blank. “I’m just—” He breaks off, gaze flitting over everyone present. He swallows. “You were right about me being a familiar. I just have some very nice—extras.” He points towards himself, a brittle smile pulling at his lips. Keiji very pointedly does not look at his naked body.

“What are you doing here?” he asks instead. “You are obviously perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and getting back to your partner.”

Kuroo goes very still, shoulders slumping down along with his ears. “He’s not around right now.”

Tsukishima’s eyes narrow in distrust. “Why? You expect us to believe your partner just took off without his familiar?”

Kuroo’s ears fall further, until they’re lying flat against the mess of his hair. “It wasn’t supposed to take this long,” he mutters. “He just told me to wait until he comes back.”

“That’s bullshit,” Koutarou growls in that moment, making Keiji jump.

Kuroo jumps, too, eyes going wide.

Koutarou's hands are shaking hard enough to have Keiji ache with how terribly upset he must be. “What kind of mage just leaves their familiar behind?”

“I hate to say it, but Bokuto’s right. That guy obviously lied to get rid of you. Otherwise he’d be back by now,” Tsukishima says, voice very cold and sharp in the way that lets Keiji know he’s trying very hard not to be affected by this.

Before them, Kuroo shakes. It’s worrisome, and Keiji thinks maybe he shouldn’t have let go of his spell so soon. But then Kuroo jerks forward with tears brimming in his golden eyes, expression pinched with fury and something more desperate beneath that.

“Kenma’s coming back!” he bites out, voice trembling slightly. His shoulders shake with it, and a wretched sob tears itself from his chest just when his first tears fall.

It breaks Keiji’s heart to hear it. Mostly because this sort of reaction—

Kuroo doesn’t look like he believes it himself.

He’s not certain or calm or patient.

He just snapped at them as if he’s scared. As if more than anything, more than _them_ , he needs to convince _himself_ of this—but really can’t.

Keiji thinks, in that moment for the first time, that Koutarou and Tsukishima might be right about their suspicions.

Kuroo’s shaking shoulders and sobbing breaths remind him of all those stories he heard as a kid, of abandoned dogs waiting for their owner in a place until they starve to death. But dogs are one thing. A familiar is another.

Abandoning a familiar, who is magically bonded, who is so emotionally attuned to one person and one person only, is so much _worse_.

His parents didn’t let him take Airi when he left. And at that point, Keiji had only just met the little dove. They hadn’t bonded or gone through with the ritual at all. And still losing her damn near _broke_ Keiji.

Koutarou spent so long picking up the pieces. Putting him back together. Helping him through work and uni and therapy and living on.

To think that someone would abandon a fully bonded familiar. An almost _human_ familiar. Keiji can’t even imagine it. The memory of Airi is enough to have tears welling up in his own eyes, his chest too tight to breathe.

Of course Kuroo can’t even entertain the thought of this Kenma abandoning him. It would shatter him.

Maybe he’s not even wrong. Keiji can’t think of anyone who would willingly leave their familiar behind. Maybe this Kenma really got held up somewhere and is trying as hard as he possibly can to get back to Kuroo.

They don’t know. Judging by how desperate and wild his eyes shine beneath his anger, not even Kuroo knows.

With his throat too tight to speak, Keiji opens his arms and holds them out. A silent offer.

Kuroo glares at him as if Keiji has slapped him, and furiously shakes his head. “He’s coming back,” he insists again, his voice so close to a sob that Keiji’s chest aches in sympathy.

Kuroo jumps up from the bed then and pushes past a very silent Tsukishima.

“I’m getting myself some pants!” he hisses, not looking back before he slams the door.

Keiji swallows. He still can’t quite breathe right. It only gets worse when Koutarou very gently pulls him back into an embrace.

Tsukishima looks helpless, caught between them and the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Be the change you want to see in the world', they say, so now here I am, drawing bad fanart for my own fic. You're welcome.  
> If you want to take a closer look at these quickly scribbled pics of my favorite four idiots, you can do so on [tumblr](https://onyx-stars.tumblr.com/post/190950097375/can-tendonitis-stop-me-from-scribbling-fanart-for) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/StarsOnyx/status/1230911570890362881)!
> 
> I really wanted to draw this scene because it was one of the first I got stuck in my head and that was one of the reasons I started writing this fic in the first place :)


	5. Not Knowing What’s Going On Doesn’t Stop Area Man From Having Very Strong Opinion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone really seemed to love the last chapter and I'm very happy about that! <3  
> This one is a bit short and slow, sorry about that. The pacing just didn't feel right otherwise. I hope you can sit it out while looking forward to more drama in the future :3c

Kuroo has taken some clothes from Tsukishima’s closet. Koutarou knows that shirt and those sweatpants.

Now Kuroo won’t stop glaring at all of them, and Koutarou finds himself glaring back, even though he doesn’t want to.

It’s not Kuroo he’s upset with. It’s that piece of shit Kenma guy who just left Kuroo all alone. At least Koutarou finally has a name for that asshole.

He just wishes that Kuroo would see the situation for what it is. And that he would stop glaring at Keiji, because Keiji never deserves to be glared at and he’s especially fragile today. Because Keiji remembered how his family cast him out, and he’s always sad after that.

Koutarou wishes he could help more, but Keiji is pale and close to tears all day. At least it’s the weekend and they can stay in together.

It hurts to think how similar Kuroo’s situation is to Keiji’s. Koutarou just wishes he would accept it already. Then they could start helping Kuroo.

If this Kenma ever shows up at their house, Koutarou will punch him in the face.

Because, even if the guy does show up, he still left Kuroo alone all this time! All alone, sending him off to strangers, no message, no signs of life. Just leaving Kuroo to wait and rot, for however long that might be.

Koutarou wants nothing more than to make Kuroo see that. That it doesn’t matter if this Kenma is coming back or not, he’s still hurting Kuroo right now and that is not _okay_ —

But he’s pretty sure that if he started talking about that now, it would only make Kuroo more upset. And that is not what Koutarou wants for him.

At least, as upset as he is, Kuroo hasn’t made any move to leave their apartment. A part of Koutarou keeps waiting for it, for Kuroo to pack up his things and march out, but—Kuroo doesn’t even own things. He showed up at their place all alone and with nothing but that stupid collar on. And all Koutarou has gotten for him is a stupid squeaky mouse toy. It seemed okay enough for Kuroo the cat, but now that Kuroo is a person, Koutarou feels pretty miserable about it.

He wonders, does Kuroo even _have_ things? Or is he just a cat to this Kenma asshole? Wherever he’s coming from, does he only have silly cat toys there and nothing else? That’s no way to treat a person!

Then again, they treated Kuroo like just a cat, too, despite how oddly smart and person-like he was. It leaves a bitter taste in Koutarou’s mouth when he thinks about it now.

Kuroo is giving them the silent treatment all day. He sits curled up in a corner of the living room and just glares.

By the time the sun begins to set, Koutarou can’t really take it anymore.

Kuroo’s glare gets even more intense as Koutarou slowly makes his way over to him. At least he’s not crying anymore.

Koutarou really doesn’t like to see Kuroo cry.

“So,” he mutters awkwardly, “you’re still sticking around?”

Kuroo’s expression could probably kill lesser man. Even rimmed red, his golden eyes are blazing with fury. “I’m still hiding. Can’t go out like this.”

Koutarou swallows down what he wants to say about that. That no one should be able to just upend Kuroo’s life with one simple order, that it’s not right or fair to Kuroo. This is not how any sort of healthy relationship works.

But instead of saying any of that and starting another fight, Koutarou asks, “Why don’t you turn back into a cat then?”

Kuroo’s glare softens a little, but not in a good way. More like he’s less pissed at Koutarou and more frustrated with himself now. “I can’t.”

“Oh,” Koutarou says dumbly, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. He has no clue how Kuroo’s powers work or what exactly that Kenma asshole did to mess Kuroo up like this.

And he must have done something, because Kuroo _is_ messed up.

He shifts a little, flexing his feet and looking down at his toes because it’s easier than having to see Kuroo’s forlorn expression. “For what it’s worth,” he mumbles, “we don’t mind you staying here. As long as you need.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything in reply.

* * *

Kuroo has calmed down somewhat.

Or at least Keiji thinks so. Kuroo the human—with cat ears and a tail, granted—is too new in Keiji’s life for him to really be able to read his expressions.

He’s not even sure if Kuroo’s expressions work the same way as human expressions. He still doesn’t really know what Kuroo is. Kuroo never actually answered them, before they started arguing about—Kenma. Keiji doesn’t even think it was done on purpose.

In hindsight, Kuroo seemed as shocked as any of them to suddenly wake up in a human body. He probably intended to pretend to be a cat the whole time.

Probably because he doesn’t trust them with the truth.

Keiji can’t blame him. They haven’t known each other for very long. And the second Kuroo started talking and giving them answers, it ended in such a bad fight.

It’s still something to think about, though. What Kuroo really is. Is he more cat or human? Or something else entirely? Keiji has heard of cat spirits, but from what he remembers, the ones that are powerful enough to take a human-like form like Kuroo’s are far too proud and important to become some human’s familiar.

But regular cat familiars definitely can’t turn human. So what does that leave for Kuroo?

He’s definitely smarter than a cat. He seems to be leaning towards the more human end of the spectrum, personality-wise. But then why does he throw himself after this Kenma so desperately?

Keiji really would like to know. He also thinks that pushing for answers right now would be a really bad idea. So he doesn’t.

For now, it’s far more important to patch things up with Kuroo again.

It shouldn’t be more difficult to apologize now that Kuroo can speak, but it is.

Keiji thinks they really hurt him, by doubting that Kenma would come back for him. Keiji himself is willing to accept that maybe they’re wrong, and Kenma will show up at some point. But he knows Koutarou isn’t.

In a way, Koutarou is more upset about what happened to Keiji than Keiji is himself. Because Koutarou isn’t as hurt, and he has more energy left to be angry about it. That’s probably why he’s so worried for Kuroo.

Keiji will have to think of some way to fix this.

For now, he’ll start with damage control. Kuroo is silently sitting down at their table for dinner—sitting, for the first time, with his own plate laid out for him—and Keiji gives him his best smile when he brings out the pan full of fried eggs. Kuroo’s nose twitches adorably as he smells the air and then turns towards him. Keiji can see it in his eyes, that he gets this.

He made this for Kuroo when they took him in on that first night, and the same things still apply now. He can stay here. They’ll take care of him, as much as they can. Nothing needs to change.

They eat in silence. Until halfway through the meal, when Koutarou blurts out, “Fucking shit! We’ve been feeding you kitty kibble all this time!”

Kuroo makes a gargling, choked-up sound at that, but Akaashi swears that for the fraction of a second, he sees him hiding a smile behind his hands.

* * *

Tetsurou is sleeping on the couch again. It’s the only logical solution, since he can’t crawl back into bed with Akaashi and Bokuto like this, and Tsukki definitely won’t let him into his, either.

It still feels like being kicked out.

Tetsurou wants to go home.

He wishes Kenma had told him how much longer this was going to take. What is he dealing with here? Will Kenma be back tomorrow, finally, _finally_ , or will Tetsurou have to spend the next few months here?

It’s already been a month since Kenma left. More than two weeks since his message to hide. Tetsurou wonders if he should give himself some sort of deadline. Like, if he doesn’t hear from Kenma again for a month after the last message, he’ll head out and go looking for Kenma.

Kenma could be in trouble. Has to be. Hinata has always been fantastic at inviting chaos his way.

Tetsurou is pretty sure that Kenma never planned on staying away for so long. It’s Tetsurou’s birthday in a few days, and Kenma wouldn’t miss that on purpose.

Kenma has begun to invite Hinata to his own birthdays, but for Tetsurou’s, it’s always just the two of them. Last year, they spent most of the evening cooking up a whole feast together, with Kenma acting mostly as the kitchen help. They both learned from the one time Kenma tried to actually cook _for_ Tetsurou and nearly set their kitchen on fire. It’s better if Kenma just chops vegetables and holds things. Tetsurou really appreciates that he put in the time and effort, and the food turned out great. After eating until they couldn’t anymore, Kenma presented him with a limited edition of his favorite manga, and then they watched Tetsurou’s favorite show all night. It was great.

Kenma has been there for Tetsurou on this day ever since his Mom died. He would never miss this. This can’t have been the plan.

He and Hinata probably got caught in some huge mess. Hinata often ends up in unintended messes. That’s why it’s taking Kenma so long to get back. Not because—

Kenma would never _abandon_ him.

Kenma is coming back. He _has_ to.

Tetsurou doesn’t have any doubts. No doubts at all. Kenma will be back.

Because if Kenma doesn’t come for him, that means he’s dead. It means that Kenma is dead and it’s all because Tetsurou didn’t come to help him, because Tetsuou was stupid and foolish and lazy and made himself a cushy life with three hot guys, while Kenma was out there, dying all alone, and what is Tetsurou even thinking, still only waiting around—

He swallows the very pathetic sound that’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

He curls up a little tighter, wrapping his tail around himself and cursing how much colder this apartment is without his fur. His shoulders are shaking from it. From the cold. Nothing else.

Part of Tetsurou really wishes he could turn back. Life was much easier when he was pretending to be a cat.

But that’s not going to happen anymore, now that Tsukki and Bokuto and Akaashi all found out the truth. Or part of it, anyway.

Sometimes, Tetsurou catches himself thinking that he should tell them more. They wouldn’t think so badly of Kenma if they understood.

But Tetsurou can’t. He knows that. He’s been able to lie about a lot of things so far and get away with it, but Akaashi definitely knows a fair deal about magic and familiars, and if Tetsurou tells him much more, Akaashi is going to catch on that this is _not_ a familiar bond.

Tetsurou can feel in the bond that Kenma is alive, and that is about the extent of how legit he can make this lie look. Tetsurou has no sense where Kenma is or what he’s feeling right now, as any familiar should.

He trusts Kenma to come back, because of what they’ve been through together, and because if Kenma was in really bad trouble he could call Tetsurou for help any time, telepathically. There is no familiar bond like that, and Tetsurou has no doubt that Akaashi will know that.

It’s already suspicious enough that Tetsurou is not just a cat, but able to shapeshift into such a humanoid form. He’s lucky as hell that Akaashi didn’t figure him out right then and there.

Akaashi is smart. Akaashi knows about magic and familiars and certainly demons, too. If Tetsurou tells him anything else, he’ll figure it all out, unravel all the lies, see Tetsurou for what he really is.

 _Fuck_.

Tetsurou shivers again, and stubbornly curls up tighter against the cold of the apartment.

He can’t forget the way Akaashi looked at him when he woke up. Usually gentle eyes suddenly cold and hard. The hand that used to pet him raised with enough magic to chop Tetsurou’s head off. Tetsurou didn’t expect Akaashi to ever look at him like that.

It’s silly. They're not even friends. He’s only really known these people for half a month, he’s pretended to be a dumb fucking cat the entire time, and now he’s still lying to them.

If Akaashi was willing to react like that to a naked guy in his bed, Tetsurou doesn’t want to find out what he’ll get for being revealed as a demon.

Part demon. But still.

If he gets caught, Kenma’s head will roll. People are going to think that Kenma summoned him. That Kenma is doing black magic and murdering children or whatever the fuck. The Coven is going to roll up on them in black trucks and drag Kenma and him both to some creepy prison where they’ll rot until Kuroo gets exorcised and Kenma gets—locked up forever, possibly, and stripped of his magic. If they don’t just kill him, too.

But Kenma never once hesitated about doing this—letting Tetsurou pretend to be his familiar, just so they can live here. Just so Tetsurou can be safe.

So they can have a new life, _together_.

A good life. One where they are accepted instead of judged. Where they can grow instead of having to hide. Where they have friends, instead of being shunned.

Maybe that’s the whole problem.

Tetsurou didn’t expect how _hard_ it would be to have friends. How difficult it would be to let people in close, when there are parts of him that they can never know about.

He’s learnt to keep his distance, because of that. It’s fine. Having Kenma at his side is enough for him.

It’s ironic that then it was Kenma, quiet and withdrawn as he is, who ended up with close friends he can’t give up.

Now he’s lying to them. To Hinata and the others.

Tetsurou knows that Kenma doesn’t like it. But it’s what they have to do. They both know that. It’s a necessary sacrifice that Kenma makes for him.

And Tetsurou is not going to blab, either. He’s taking this to his grave.

He can only thank his lucky stars that he shifted into this form and not further. Not all the way to pointed ears and horns poking out of his head and the smell of demonic magic so thick in the air that the whole city knows where he is.

He still doesn’t understand why he shifted back at all. Was it exhaustion, after holding his cat form for so long? Or did that Azumane guy’s magic mess him up? Maybe a mix of both. Tetsurou doesn’t know the particulars of the spells Azumane threw at him, but if they were meant to make him feel better and relax, maybe that’s what caused him to lose form. It could have happened, especially asleep.

Well, good on him, because he’s definitely not sleeping now. His brain won’t fucking shut _up_.

He can’t forget that cold look in Akaashi’s eyes. The way Bokuto yelled at him about Kenma abandoning him. The glib way Tsukki agreed, all haughty as if Tetsurou was too stupid to see what a bad person Kenma is.

Kenma is the best. Kenma is Tetsurou’s fucking _heart_. The center of his universe.

And he’s coming back for sure.

But even more than the fight they had, the thought of how much danger Kenma might be in keeps Tetsurou awake all through the night.

* * *

To put it mildly, Kuroo looks like complete shit.

There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s half asleep over his breakfast. It’s no surprise. When Kei went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he heard Kuroo sniffling on the couch.

Poor guy is heartbroken, or something.

With the way he keeps talking about this Kenma, Kei wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they’re a couple. It seems a bit pathological, hooking up with your familiar, but then again, Kei has never heard of a familiar as human-looking as Kuroo. It’s all very strange.

But it’s not like Kei can do anything about it. He thought he was bad with cat Kuroo, but human Kuroo is an entirely different class of disaster.

He hasn’t spoken a single word with Kei since their argument.

And he still looks just as miserable by the time Kei gets home from uni and work.

Akaashi and Bokuto are perched on the couch, Kuroo settled in the corner of the room, and the atmosphere is stifling. Kei doesn’t get what they want out of this. Why they don’t just leave. Maybe they’re all very into suffering.

Kei isn’t. He’s going to head into his room and study and not make this mess any worse than it already is.

It’s a good plan, until his stomach demands food and he has to sneak into the kitchen. That’s when he hears them talking in the living room. Arguing again.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Bokuto huffs, tone very insistent, “ _if_ he’s not coming back, you can stay here as long as you want.”

Huh. Kei can’t remember ever being asked about that. Not that he minds. Just—way to include him in the conversation.

“But he _is_ coming back,” Kuroo hisses, absolutely venomous.

There’s more back and forth as Kei heats up some noodles, voices rising. Kei wonders how Akaashi is putting up with that. He’s just about to grab his meal and slip past the living room, when Bokuto’s voice breaks mid-shout.

“If this Kenma _cared_ about you, he’d _be_ here!”

It’s followed by deafening silence.

That’s not good.

Very, very carefully, Kei peers into the room.

Bokuto looks very guilty, and close to crying.

Kuroo is one step further along. Pale as a sheet, tears running down his cheeks in streams. He’s shaking like the leaves outside when a storm rips them away, looking very lanky and helpless with the way he’s hugging himself, legs drawn up, tail wrapped around him like he wants to disappear.

“You have to take it back,” Kuroo chokes out, quietly. He sounds as small as he looks. “You don’t even know Kenma. You don’t get to talk about him like that. I know he’s coming back.”

Kei pretends to himself that there isn’t something very cold spreading through his chest at seeing Kuroo like this.

He's still not even used to seeing this man’s face. It’s ridiculous to be so broken up about him being in tears.

“Kuroo,” Bokuto breathes, voice beseeching. He’s much quieter now. “I’m just trying to look out for you—”

Kei kind of wants to shove Bokuto for saying something so stupid. It’s obvious that this is only upsetting Kuroo even more, no matter who of them is right or wrong in this.

“I believe you, Kuroo,” Keiji says then. Softly, but not uncertain.

Kei almost drops his plate.

“Wha—why— _Keiji_!” Bokuto yelps. He obviously didn’t see that one coming. Kei didn’t, either. Now Bokuto appears close to tears as well, and Kei thanks all the gods he doesn’t believe in for not being a part of this mess.

Kuroo, for the first time since their fight yesterday, doesn’t look completely grim and devastated.

“If you’re so sure that Kenma’s coming back, I believe you,” Akaashi mutters, firmer now. Bokuto is still sputtering.

Kei finds himself stepping into the room, like he’s some sort of fool without any sort of emotional self-preservation. “Yes, me too.”

Everyone’s eyes snap into his direction, almost comically wide. Kei might laugh at them, if it didn’t feel like his heart is trying to beat out of his chest.

“I don’t know much about familiars, and I don’t know this Kenma,” he keeps on talking, like a complete and utter idiot. He finds that he can’t stop himself when Kuroo is looking at him with that hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “The only one who knows him is you. You say he’s coming back. So I’d be stupid to think I know any better than you.”

Kei can see, without actually having to see, how much Bokuto wants to protest. He can hear the muffled little squabble as Akaashi makes every effort to shush him.

But Kuroo doesn’t seem to notice. His golden eyes, sharp slitted pupil and all, are fixed on Kei like he’s the single most wondrous thing in the entire world. Kei’s already unsteady heartbeat gets even worse, somehow.

Then Kuroo nods, very slowly, and as soon as his eyes leave him, Kei can finally breathe again. His face feels too hot.

Good to know that Kuroo is happier now that they’ve let him have this. But it seems like Kei has a whole new problem to deal with.

* * *

Koutarou can’t fucking believe this.

It was one thing when only Kuroo, poor guy that he is, was so sure this Kenma asshole would come back for him. But now Keiji and Tsukki, too?

“Do you _want_ this asshole to come and take Kuroo away?” he growls, knowing he sounds harsher than he should when it’s just Keiji and him. But right now he’s unable to help himself.

He’s met with silence. It’s so dark that he can’t quite make out Keiji’s face properly, and for a moment Koutarou wonders if he’s wrong and Keiji is already asleep. But then there is a very heavy breath, and Keiji shifts around.

“I think it would make Kuroo very happy if this Kenma comes back,” he mumbles then. It’s not an answer to Koutarou’s question at all, and they both know it.

Despite that, Keiji still has a point there and it irks Koutarou to no end. Because he just wants Kuroo to be happy, too.

But why can’t Kuroo be happy here, with them? Why does it have to be about whether or not some fucking jerk will ever show his face again?

“He just _left_ Kuroo. All alone. What if we were bad people? What if Kuroo hadn’t found us? And Kuroo is so sad all the time! That asshole could at least _call_ ,” he huffs, hands clenching in the sheets as he tries very hard not to raise his voice.

Again, Keiji is silent for a long time. “I know you’re worried, Kou,” he mumbles then. A soft, warm hand touches Koutarou's shoulder and gently rubs down his arms. Koutarou finds himself breathing easier. “But Kuroo is his familiar and I—Kou, I don’t—I don’t get _not_ wanting to come back to your familiar.” Keiji’s voice is all raspy now. Koutarou is worried that he’s crying, and he shuffles closer to wrap his arms around Keiji’s trembling shoulders. There are a few quiet sobs.

Koutarou’s heart aches. He feels so sorry for Kuroo, and he feels so sorry for Keiji, too, for having this whole topic dragged back up now.

“It’s not just about coming back, Keiji,” he says, softly, when Keiji has stopped shaking. “He just—he gets to say three words and Kuroo abandons his whole life? Just like that? Does that guy think Kuroo is just some random cat he can order around as he pleases? He’s obviously not! This asshole shouldn’t get to push him around like that.”

Keiji’s hands find his hair and gently pat it. The touch is very steady, and Koutarou sighs in relief that Keiji seems to be doing better now. He supposes the closer they look at Kuroo’s situation, the less it reminds Keiji of his own. “I get that you’re worried,” Keiji hums, in that soft tone of voice he always uses when he thinks Koutarou is doing something really nice. Koutarou loves that voice. Loves the sound of Keiji’s voice in general. “You think this Kenma treated him badly?”

Koutarou shrugs helplessly, careful not to jostle Keiji too much. “I don’t know. I guess. All Kuroo tells us is how this Kenma ordered him to do stuff, and now he’s doing it without question. Even though it hurts him! And, I mean, how can Kuroo just take off like that? It’s like he doesn’t have any friends or family, or work or uni or anything of his own.”

In his arms, Keiji tenses just a little. “He doesn’t have any of that with us now.”

Koutarou balks. “Because he just got here! And because he’s not leaving this apartment, just because this fucking Kenma told him not to!” He huffs, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. He wants to yell, but Keiji is not the one who deserves to be yelled at. “I don’t want to treat Kuroo like he’s just a cat, Keiji,” he mutters then. “He’s a person.”

“If he’s a person, you have to believe him when he tells you something,” Keiji says, very gently.

Koutarou wants to yell _again_. “But what if he’s wrong?” he presses out, voice tight and barely stifled.

Keiji is quiet again for a while. Just gently runs his fingers through Koutarou’s hair. “I think,” he says then, very quietly, “I think Kuroo is really scared that this Kenma won’t come back. That’s why he gets so upset when you say it. And if you’re right, then Kuroo will have to accept that it in his own time. You can’t push him, Kou.”

It sounds very reasonable. Koutarou hates when Keiji is so reasonable about things they disagree on. He wants to make Kuroo understand that this Kenma asshole isn’t worth it, right _now_.

Keiji is right, though. He probably can’t.

“I’m worried for him, Keiji,” he mutters, feeling uncomfortably helpless.

Soft lips press to his forehead. “I know, Kou,” Keiji whispers in the darkness. “Me too.”

Koutarou curls closer around him. “Love you, Keiji,” he mutters before he allows himself to doze off.

“Love you, too,” is softly whispered back.


	6. Relationship Definitely Hurtling Toward Something

Tetsurou is curled up on the couch as if it will swallow him up if he only makes himself small enough. Would be nice if that happened.

He heard them fighting earlier. Bokuto and Akaashi. Tetsurou didn’t catch everything, but he knows they were upset and that it was about him.

He really fucking hopes he didn’t put their relationship in jeopardy by showing up here. That’s the last thing he would want for them.

Maybe he should leave. It’s not the first time he’s thinking it.

But he can’t. Shifting is magic. If someone or something out there really is looking for him—and why else would Kenma tell him to hide?—they might be able to pick up his magic when he shifts. And even if not, there’s still the risk of Tetsurou messing up and letting something demonic slip through. Then it’s all over for Kenma and him.

He doesn’t want Kenma to come back to Tetsurou breaking their life here into shambles.

So he can’t risk it. He can only hope that the last time he shifted, all the spells Azumane piled on him were enough to hide his own magic. So far at least, no one has shown up to ask around about demonic magic. Tetsurou got lucky there.

He’s not about to put that luck to the test. The shift helped with how much his body hurt, and it even made all the unused magic swirling through him a little better. But Tetsurou is still full to the brim with energy, and he is very worried about the mess he’ll cause if he tries to use some of it and it all comes bursting out.

He’ll just have to sit this out now. Human-like spirit form—catboy form—isn’t so bad.

Granted, he can’t go out onto the streets, because people could recognize his face far easier than they’d recognize a cat. And being like this has really messed up the comfortable life Tetsurou enjoyed here before. And Tsukki is barely looking at him anymore, and Akaashi and Bokuto are fighting over him, and no one will really talk to him or affectionately pet his hair anymore, and everything really fucking sucks—

Deep breaths, he tells himself.

Kenma isn’t here to tell him, after all.

Things will calm down, once the others get used to Tetsurou being more man than cat. Probably. And it’s not like he’ll stay here forever. Two more weeks without news from Kenma, and Tetsurou will go out there and find him himself.

Fuck, he really hopes Kenma is alright. Kenma usually knows what he’s doing.

Tetsurou just has to believe in him. Then everything will be fine. Kenma will come back.

And Tetsurou will do the best damn job at hiding in the meantime. He’ll just stay right here where he is, and not use his magic anymore, and be very civil about living with three hot guys who all hate him now. It’s going to be fine. There are upsides to this situation. Like, for example, so long as the other three don’t really talk to him, Tetsurou can’t mess things up by flirting with them.

Tetsurou is really good at ruining things by coming on too strong to the wrong people. And just imagine the mess, if he made Tsukki or Bokuto or Akaashi so uncomfortable that they kick him out. Tetsurou wouldn’t be hiding anymore. That would be bad.

So, good thing he can’t flirt. He’ll just look at them from afar and _wonder_ and really, strongly hope that Bokuto and Akaashi don’t break up over him.

But—since they already won’t talk to him, what could it hurt to try the waters a little? Just once. Just an innocent little compliment, peppered in somewhere into their non-existent conversations. Just to see if maybe one of them would be interested. If they don’t like Tetsurou’s advances, they can just go back to giving him the silent treatment and occasionally yelling mean things about Kenma. Bokuto will probably do that anyway.

Maybe he won’t flirt with Bokuto.

Maybe, most likely really, he shouldn’t flirt at all.

He can be responsible! He’ll be perfectly well behaved and won’t ruin this very nice set-up he has here by getting into the wrong person’s pants.

Even if he really misses having sex with someone. It’s been a while.

He misses them talking to him and touching him with those fond little smiles, too. Misses it really fucking much. More than sex.

But he’ll take what he can get.

Or, well, he won’t. Since he’s not going to flirt around.

He’ll just be miserable and alone, and not risk this very nice hide-out he has here. Things could be a lot worse, so really, Tetsurou should be happy.

At least Akaashi and Tsukki have stopped accusing Kenma of terrible things all the time. And even though they all avoid him, it’s not like they outright hate him.

They could.

They would, if they found out what he really is.

So really, it’s in Tetsurou’s best interest to just keep his fucking mouth shut and his head down. Stay by himself. He can handle a month or two on his own, no problem. No biggie. No issue at all. Tetsurou is totally okay and not falling apart.

Not at all.

He just really hopes Kenma will come back soon, before he does anything stupid.

* * *

Kuroo is still a mess.

Or at least, Kei thinks so. It’s not like he has any measure of comparison for non-cat Kuroo. It’s not like this human Kuroo can just crawl into anyone’s lap and get petted and purr up a storm. Or like he can curl up on Kei’s desk next to his book and watch him study.

But that doesn’t mean he has to sit on the ground and look at them silently, either. Kuroo is just doing that anyway.

Kei is pretty glad he’s so busy and not home as much as Akaashi to see that. It would be way too awkward. He has no idea how Akaashi deals with it, especially with how often Bokuto and Kuroo start glaring at each other.

Kei is quite happy by himself in his room, thanks very much. He’s getting so much studying done. It’s not very effective, with how much his thoughts keep straying back to how miserable Kuroo looks, but hey. So much studying.

Maybe he should ask Yamaguchi if he can stay at his place for a while. Just until this mess blows over.

If it does blow over. If this Kenma ever actually comes back and—

Then Kuroo will leave. Right? He’s only staying with them right now because they barely had any connection before, and as soon as Kuroo doesn’t have to hide anymore, he’ll probably be very happy to return to his old life.

Kei isn’t sure how to feel about that prospect. It has something cold and uncomfortable curling in his chest, and Kei is quite helpless to it.

It’s utterly ridiculous. He barely knows Kuroo as a person. The guy pretended to be a fucking cat the whole time. Kei can live without a cat. What does he care.

The cold thing in Kei’s chest seems to think differently.

He huffs out a breath, frustrated. Seems like his studying will not be very effective tonight, either. The numbers in front of him make no sense and he’s pretty sure that he’s made a mistake somewhere with how distracted he is. Maybe it’s time to stop for today. It’s already late, anyway. He thinks Akaashi and Bokuto have gone back to their room already.

Kei himself would have stopped two hours ago, if he didn’t know that he’d be thinking about the same useless shit while he’s lying in bed. He wanted to do something useful with his time instead. It’s just not working. Maybe if he was less tired or if Kuroo was still here to conveniently swipe his paw at him when he miscalculates something—

Kei stops.

Technically, Kuroo can still do that.

It's a silly thought. Why would Kuroo ever want to help Kei with his calculus assignments?

But the idea is not letting go of Kei now. Kuroo is sitting out there all alone, and never really talks to them, but maybe this—this is like before, right? Kuroo won’t even have to say anything.

It’s probably the lack of sleep making Kei this dumb and impulsive, but he’s already gathering up his book and notepad and pencil. Too late to stop now.

Kuroo startles when Kei turns the light back on in the living room, ears swiveling this way and that as he opens his eyes. He doesn’t look like he was asleep.

Kei isn’t sure if Kuroo ever sleeps. He always looks tired, and whenever Kei leaves his room at night, he hears Kuroo shuffling around on the couch, breath hitching and too fast.

Tensely, Kei puts his things down on the table, falling down into his chair. “I’ve made a mistake somewhere and I can’t find it,” he says, voice as carefully neutral as he can manage.

The look Kuroo gives him is very curious. His golden eyes are so—so _wide_ and they’re fixed on Kei with so much focus that it has heat rising up beneath his skin. Kei barely dares to breathe, until Kuroo’s gaze drops and he pulls Kei’s notepad over to himself.

Kei watches him, silently, as those strange eyes skim over his work. They’re a little narrowed now that Kuroo is focusing. His whole body seems to have gone still, not even his ears or tail twitching. His chest rises slowly with every breath he takes. It's easy to see, because Kei’s shirts are all a bit tight on him. Bokuto’s might fit Kuroo’s wide shoulders better, but things are still too tense between the two for anyone to bring up that idea.

Kei’s pants are a good fit for Kuroo at least, even though they always hang dangerously low on his hips. The tail seems to get in the way.

Kei startles when his notepad is suddenly pushed back to him. “Here,” Kuroo says, pointing at one of his calculations. His voice is quiet and a little rough. It’s a very nice sound. Kei wants to hear more of it.

None of them ever really _talk_ to Kuroo. He has to feel lonely.

“Thank you,” he mutters and takes his notepad. His pen scratches on the paper as he sets to fixing it. He can feel Kuroo’s eyes on him as he does, an insistent prickle that won’t quite let him focus. “How come you know advanced calculus, anyway?” Kei asks, quietly, heart pounding in his chest.

It feels very strange to strike up a conversation with Kuroo. New territory.

“I don’t know much,” Kuroo answers easily enough. His voice has a low timbre to it that’s driving Kei a bit mad if he thinks too much about it. “The formulas are all new to me. But I know maths.”

Kei dares to look up. Kuroo’s eyes are sparkling with mirth, lips pulled into a wry grin. “I’m not just some dumb kitty, you know.”

Kei looks back down at his crossed-out numbers before heat can rise to his face. “Didn’t think you were.” He takes a deep breath. In. Out. “You’ve been too smart for a cat from the beginning. It makes more sense now that you’re like this. What I don’t get is why you would be someone’s pet.”

He dares a look back up. Kuroo’s expression has gone very sharp, like he’s waiting for Kei to say more. Say something meaner.

Kei doesn’t.

Eventually, Kuroo’s shoulders and his stiffly raised ears sink back down. “Kenma is—really good. Best friend I could ask for. You guys would understand if you knew him.” His eyes look suspiciously wet for a long moment there. Kei is worried he’ll be faced with a crying Kuroo, which he has no idea how to deal with, but then Kuroo seems to catch himself, blinking rapidly a few times. His grin pulls a little wider, sharp teeth flashing out between his lips. “And who’s to say I don’t enjoy playing someone’s pet.”

Kei chokes on his breath.

Whatever sound he makes has Kuroo breaking out into wild, gleeful snickering. “Sorry, sorry, that was a bit out of line.”

“You don’t seem like the type of guy to follow orders well,” Kei presses out, struggling to regain his composure. He feels terribly off-balance.

Kuro’s eyes have that really eerie focus in them again as he sets them back on Kei. “Maybe I want someone to _make me_ ,” he purrs, that addictive tone in his voice suddenly so much more present than before.

It makes Kei’s breath come out short.

What is this? What are they doing?

Are they teasing each other, or playing a very odd game of chicken?

Or does Kuroo mean what he says? Is this _going_ somewhere?

Kei is honestly confused. Does that mean that Kuroo and this Kenma guy aren’t a thing after all? Or are they not exclusive, like how Akaashi and Bokuto sometimes invite Kei?

It sure seems like there is _something_ going on between Kenma and Kuroo. Kuroo doesn’t seem like the type to be pushed around by anyone, but whatever Kenma says is god’s word in his ear. That’s not a friendship-type of relationship. Kei doesn’t even know if it’s a mage-familiar-type of relationship.

It doesn’t feel very balanced or two-sided. It’s one thing to take orders during sex, and another for Kuroo to live his entire life by Kenma’s word.

Maybe it would be really good for Kuroo to strike out. Have something else. Something new. Something not with Kenma.

And, well. Kei has eyes. He is fully aware that Kuroo is attractive, as a man. That there is something captivating to his body and his movements, always smooth and graceful.

Also Kei’s face is on fire with Kuroo’s implications. His mouth dry. His palms sweaty. His pants may be a little tight at the idea of—the implications.

Kuroo is still staring at him, golden eyes blinking slowly.

Then he pulls back. Kei only barely stops himself from following.

“You look adorable when you’re all flustered,” Kuroo hums, but his voice is different now. Like he’s teasing a good friend and there’s no intent behind at all.

Kei wants that sexy purr back. That sharp need in Kuroo’s eyes, like he means every word he says. Like he wants Kei to grab him and push him around and make him do everything Kei says.

Kei licks his lips. “Do you mean it?” he asks, breathless but too preoccupied with how much he wants this to be embarrassed about it. “Do you—want me to make you?”

That predatory glint is back in Kuroo’s eyes in an instant. He’s leaning across the table right into Kei’s face. “Oya? You want to play with me, Tsukki?”

Fuck, yes, does he want to.

He slips his hands up into Kuroo’s messy hair, fingers teasing against the edge of soft, cat-like ears. He can feel Kuroo quiver from the touch and it’s a heady feeling, that he can do so much with so little. He wonders what else he can do to Kuroo, if he really tries. “I want to,” he whispers.

Kuroo quivers again. His pupils don’t look slitted at all anymore, with how blown they are all of a sudden.

“What do you want, Kuroo?” Kei asks, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Kuroo’s cheeks. Kei has so many ideas. He’s only had one relationship where he could really dig into these things, and Kuroo seems so beautifully responsive to the idea that it has Kei’s blood burning with want. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, how they slipped into this so suddenly, but no way is he going to give it up now. “Want me to push you around, hm? Make you listen when you can’t behave?” He hopes it’s not too much, but it’s all going so fast, so overwhelming, and Kei _wants_ —“Want me to tell you when you’re acting like a needy slut?”

He’s scared he’s taking it too far. His voice has gotten cold and drawling, the way so few people can stand, like he’s trying to be mean when he’s not, like he wants to make them cry. It’s not for everyone during sex.

But Kuroo’s mouth drops open, a quiet, needy sound torn from him. “Fuck, Tsukki,” he hisses, eyes glazed over. His grin is wide and hungry and absolutely _delighted_. “You better make good on that.”

“Want me to be a little mean to you?” Kei keeps going, heart beating wildly because Kuroo is enjoying this, he wants this as much as Kei does and it’s the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to him. “You like being called a slut? Hm? I wonder, should I treat you like one? Tie you up maybe? Slap you around? Make you beg for it?”

Kuroo makes a low, breathy sound. “ _Tsukki_. You’ll make me ruin your pants if you keep going like that.”

Kei chuckles. It’s not a very nice sound. Kuroo’s breath is hitching from it, cheeks a blazing red, and the sight of that has Kei’s heart beating ridiculously fast.

Kei is going to _ruin_ him.

He tightens his grip on Kuroo’s hair and doesn’t miss the responding small sound from Kuroo. His other hand trails down, hooking into the leather of the collar and pulling it forward with enough force to make the bell jingle. “Want me to use this and show you your place?”

For the first time, Kuroo’s eyes clear a little. He blinks and pulls back, cheeks still flushed. Kei lets him go.

“You can’t,” Kuroo mutters with a shake of his head, voice a little unsteady. “That’s Kenma’s.”

Jealousy flares up in Kei like a wildfire.

Why the fuck does some guy get to give Kuroo a pet collar and have it be Kuroo’s most treasured possession? Kuroo is more than the pet of some asshole who can’t be bothered to check in on him.

Bokuto has been a really bad influence on him, Kei muses.

But it’s up to Kuroo what he wants to do, so Kei swallows all of that down and nods without protest. “I won’t touch it.”

Kuroo nods, a grateful little smile playing over his lips. It’s much softer than the needy look he had before. Kei finds that he likes this, too.

“How do you feel about Thursday afternoon? Bokuto and Akaashi are both out then.” Kei leans forward, cocking his head to the side with a smirk. “You can be loud.”

A visible shiver runs down Kuroo’s spine, ears and tail twitching with it. “Gonna make me wait for it, huh?” he drawls. He looks _good_ like that. As eager as Kei is feeling.

Kei can’t help but chuckle. “Yes, you menace. I can’t believe you suddenly turn from a cat into a really kinky, hot guy.”

“I have my uses,” Kuroo hums with a smirk and a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows. It makes Kei laugh even harder.

“You’re unbelievable,” he gasps, ruffling his hand through Kuroo’s hair in a less serious way than before.

To his surprise, Kuroo begins to purr.

Kei blinks. “You can still do that.”

Kuroo pushes forward into his hand with an easy shrug. Purposefully wiggles his ears. “I’m not really human, you know.”

Kei is—not sure why he expected otherwise.

“No,” he mutters under his breath, fingers scratching over Kuroo’s scalp. “I guess you’re not.”

* * *

Kuroo looks better.

A little.

Maybe.

Koutarou hates to think that it is because Keiji and Tsukki are indulging him on the Kenma issue.

But he also hates to see Kuroo sad.

He thinks there's probably no winning this.

He’s been mulling over Keiji’s words. About Kuroo needing to accept things on his own. About Kuroo needing to believe that this Kenma asshole will be back for him eventually.

Stupid fucking jerk.

Koutarou really hopes that by the time this asshole shows up at their front door, if he ever does, Kuroo will be too happy with them to want to leave anymore. Kuroo will tell that jerk to get lost, and that entitled asshole won’t accept it, and then Koutarou will swoop in and punch him in the face and chase him off. It will be great.

If it ever comes to that.

For now, Koutarou is just happy that Kuroo seems to be doing better. Keiji is doing a great job at drawing him out of his shell, mostly by delegating a bunch of chores to him. It seems that having something to do goes a long way in cheering Kuroo up. He’s talking to Keiji and Tsukki and even smiling sometimes now.

He’s not talking to Koutarou, though. Probably because of what Koutarou said to him.

Koutarou doesn’t think he was wrong to say it. But he knows it hurt Kuroo. He will have to apologize for that, even though it irks him.

So that evening after dinner, after Tsukki has withdrawn to his room to study, Koutarou gives Keiji a meaningful look. Keiji, bless his soul, leaves them alone with an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.

And then they’re alone. Kuroo is giving him a suspicious glare for it already.

Koutarou nervously clears his throat. He really hopes that he won’t fuck this up. He has the bad tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time sometimes, and now Keiji isn’t here to help him.

But Keiji can’t be a part of Koutarou’s apology. That’s not how things work.

“I, uh. Wanted to talk,” Koutarou offers awkwardly.

Kuroo’s brows raise up. He theatrically turns his head as he looks around the empty room. “Yes, I can see that.”

This isn’t going well. Curse Kuroo for being so contrary! They got along way better when Kuroo was still a cat.

“I—what I said really hurt your feelings. I’m sorry about that,” Koutarou mutters, fingers clenching and flexing nervously.

Kuroo cocks his head to the side, ears flopping cutely with the movement. His expression isn’t cute, though. It’s very wary. Koutarou feels bad for making Kuroo look at him like that. “But you still believe Kenma abandoned me?” Kuroo asks.

“I—” Koutarou stumbles and breaks off. Kuroo won’t like the truth. But Koutarou also can’t lie his way through a serious apology like this. “Yes,” he admits unhappily.

Kuroo scoffs. “Then why are you apologizing if you’re so sure?”

“Because I hurt you!” Koutarou calls out immediately, leaning forward. “And I don’t want to. I want you to be happy! And I want to be friends again.”

Kuroo’s brows draw together, all tight and severe. His mouth twists into something unhappy, too. “That’s a lot of things you want,” he points out airily. He flicks his adorable ears in a way that makes Koutarou think he’s really pissed. And then they droop, all sad, which is _worse_. “You don’t get to say bad things about Kenma.”

Koutarou wants to protest. _Fuck_ , does he want to protest. The _’But!’_ is sitting in his throat and screaming to be let out. But if he says that, this won’t be an apology. It will just be another fight.

Keiji said that Kuroo needs to accept things in his own time.

So Koutarou will give him time. And he will be the best fucking friend to Kuroo until then.

“I won’t,” he huffs, tying to relax from how tense he is. “I won’t mention him again, so can we please—go back to being friends?”

Kuroo gives him a long, silent look as he considers him.

His ears perk up a moment before his mouth splits into a soft smile, stunning enough to rival Keiji’s. “Okay.”

Relief floods Koutarou like a wave. Not for the first time in his life, he’s really fucking happy that he listened to Keiji’s advice.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, heart hammering wildly in his chest. Excitedly, he shuffles a bit closer. “So, I feel really fucking awful about only getting you that mouse toy. I want to make it up to you. How do you feel about video games?”

Kuroo’s answering grin, sharp teeth and all, is as bright as the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter got so much really nice feedback, thank u all so much, you're the best! <3  
> this one is kinda early because apparently i write faster when i should be thinking about an important job interview :') still short but the next one is gonna be longer and a bit spicy because it will be _Thursday_ ( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)


	7. Local Furry Denies All Allegations Of Having “Feelings”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry, this one took me a while because I kept rewriting the smut and something unexpectedly ate up my weekend.  
> Tags have been updated because Tsukki and Kuroo kind of got away from me and got filthy. Um. Oops?  
> I hope you can enjoy this chapter :'>

By Tetsurou’s sense of time, Thursday has taken about a month to arrive. A fucking eternity. Far too long.

He really needs Tsukki to make good on his promises today. Tetsurou is going to go mad if he can’t make his own thoughts _shut up_ soon. He was barely able to sleep at all.

It was his birthday yesterday. Still no word from Kenma. Not even a whisper in their shared bond.

Things have to be really bad if Kenma won’t even use the bond.

There’s no way that Kenma _forgot_ what day it was.

Tetsurou is terrified to think of what could be so serious. His only saving grace is that he can still feel the bond at all, which means Kenma still has to be at the other end, which means he still has to be alive. But even knowing that, Tetsurou feels close to shaking out of his own skin with nerves.

But. _But_.

Luckily, it’s Thursday now. It’s not his birthday anymore.

It’s the day Tsukki promised to do some very nice things with him, and hopefully that will help Tetsurou forget. He’s always been good at compartmentalizing. And Tsukki can blow his mind, hopefully, until he’s not thinking of anything at all anymore.

Fuck, Tetsurou really hopes so. He needs this so badly.

It’s time now. Akaashi and Bokuto are out, and he can smell Tsukki in the hallway when he’s coming back. Can hear the clinking of his keys as he unlocks the door.

Tetsurou is on him as soon as he’s closed it, pressing him against the cool wood and rubbing the full length of his body against Tsukki’s. His tail is swishing behind him like he’s a damn dog, excitement setting his nerves on edge.

It’s only excitement. Nothing else.

Not so long as Tetsurou just focuses really hard on how nice Tsukki smells and how warm he is.

Tetsurou really missed being so close to someone.

“Wow,” Tsukki remarks flatly, adjusting his glasses. “You _are_ desperate.”

“Sue me,” Tetsurou huffs good-naturedly. “You go spend half a month with three hot guys, stuck as a cat. I have been _very_ patient.”

“You’ll have to remain patient until I’ve taken off my shoes and had some time to prepare,” Tsukki shoots him down, cold as ice.

Tetsurou grumbles unhappily. And pulls back. “Fine.”

Tsukki nods at him, like Tetsurou has done something right. It’s enough to send a slight tingle through him. One that quiets all the other thoughts trying to crawl around his mind.

Fuck, Tetsurou can’t wait to get started.

“For later,” Tsukki asks, voice stern and serious, “green, yellow and red work for you?” His smirk gets a very nasty edge. “I kind of feel like pushing you.”

“You’re welcome to try your worst,” Tetsurou hums with a flutter of his lashes. “Colors work for me. Same for you?”

“Yes,” Tsukki confirms. “Now get back and let me prepare. Fiend.”

Tetsurou can’t help but chuckle at that.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for Tsukki to prepare. Tetsurou can hear him clutter around in the bathroom and then his own room, while he’s waiting on the couch and practically bouncing in place.

And then Tsukki’s door opens and he’s standing there in his pressed shirt and slacks that he always wears to his fancy business classes, and Tetsurou’s mouth goes dry. He swallows, giddy excitement brimming beneath his skin. Getting up from the couch, he slinks over to Tsukki with slow, purposeful steps, jutting out his hips ever so slightly.

Don’t let it be said that Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t know how to look sexy. It’s hardly his first time hooking up with someone.

Just, maybe his first time where he’s known the other person this well beforehand, except maybe for Daichi and Suga. It happens. Life is full of new experiences.

It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Tsukki doesn’t move an inch when Tetsurou plasters himself to his front, wiggling his hips enticingly. “You wanted to see me, Sir?” he purrs, unable to hide his smirk.

Tsukki doesn’t even blink, unimpressed. “Any hard limits?” he asks.

Fuck, Tetsurou wants to make that perfect composure crack. He’s going to poke and prod at it until it all comes apart. He’ll bet anything that Tsukki looks _beautiful_ when that stoic façade finally comes undone.

Although, Tetsurou needs so badly to let go and clear his mind right now—maybe he’ll leave all these ideas he has for another time. Tsukki clearly seems to enjoy holding all control, anyway.

“Can’t think of any. I’ll tap out if it comes up. Really liked everything you suggested last time,” he husks out, leaning into Tsukki’s space.

Tsukki acknowledges him with a nod, still unfazed. “I don’t mind you using my name instead of that ridiculous nickname everyone insists on.”

Kuroo blinks, surprised. It’s a nice surprise, though. “Kei?” he asks, just to be sure. Maybe Tsukki just wants to be Tsukishima.

But to Tetsurou’s immense glee, Tsukki nods. _Kei_ nods.

Tetsurou pulls back just a little. “Tetsurou,” he offers in return.

Kei’s perfectly reserved look wavers, overtaken by confusion.

Tetsurou points at himself. “Me. I have two names, too.”

“Ah,” Kei hums with understanding. “Good to know I won’t have to call you by the name of our cat.”

Tetsurou snickers. “Yeah. Feel free to go wild, _Tsukki_.”

Kei’s brows visibly twitch with annoyance. Good. Tetsurou is absolutely here to rile him up.

Firmly, Kei grabs Tetsurou’s chin and leans in close to his face, lips almost touching. “Okay?” he asks.

Tetsurou leans forward into the touch. “Yes. You know, you’re not nearly as mean as you promised you’d be, Tsukki—”

He’s cut off by Kei’s lips pressing over his. Firm and insistent and greedy, licking into Tetsurou’s mouth right away and demanding all he can give. Kei’s other hand finds his hair, gripping it with delicious strength to hold him in place. Tetsurou whines into the kiss, trying to follow when Kei pulls back, but the hand in his hair won’t let him.

“Needy,” Kei says, sounding something between unimpressed and disappointed.

Tetsurou has the very insistent need to push back against that haughtiness. “I can b—” he starts and doesn’t get any further than that, as Kei pushes two fingers into his mouth.

“Your tongue is strange,” Kei remarks, all matter of fact. Tetsurou shivers when Kei rubs his fingers over it, then goes so far as to grab it and pull it out of his mouth. Tetsurou lets his mouth drop open, whining.

A lot of things about him are different from humans. He’s more cat spirit than human, after all. The raspy tongue is a part of the deal, even though it’s not as rough as when he’s fully a cat.

“And your teeth look sharp,” Kei goes on, eyes flicking down. He’s still rubbing Tetsurou’s tongue. Doesn’t let Tetsurou pull back, even as drool begins to slip from his mouth and he whines again. Kei clicks his teeth. “You got these under control? Enough to do something useful with that mouth?”

He lets go of Tetsurou’s tongue, finally, allowing him to gasp and work his jaw. He wipes over his face before grinning at Kei. “I’m very good with my mouth,” he promises, smiling in the way that shows off just how sharp his teeth really are. He leans forward, further into Kei’s space. “I can suck your cock like no one has before. Can talk you into cumming, too. Or maybe eat out your cute ass, if you want.”

“You don’t stop talking, do you?” Kei asks, brows raised with a cold look.

“It’s one of my better qualities,” Tetsurou teases with a wide smirk.

“Debatable,” Kei mutters. “Undress and get on the bed.”

“Aaw, Tsukki,” Tetsurou drawls, easily stepping around him. He slips off his shirt as he goes, then drops down on Kei’s bed. “Don’t be so cold. When are we actually going to get started? If you’re too shy, I’m happy to take the reins and rock your world.”

Kei steps in front of him. Grabs his chin and pulls it up, until Tetsurou is looking him in the eyes. “Maybe some other time,” he hums, smile deceptively soft. “You don’t listen well, do you?”

“Heh, I’m just trying to pick up your slack,” Tetsurou hums, tilting his ears to the side in the way Kenma always says is him ‘trying to be cute while obviously being a menace’. He lets his mouth drop open, running his tongue over Kei’s finger.

Kei still doesn’t look very impressed. It’s an odd thing to watch, leaving Tetsurou hanging somewhere between feeling really out of his depth and really wanting to push Kei further. Until he cracks.

“I suppose that’s what I get for agreeing to _make you_ behave,” Kei mutters, sounding exasperated.

Tetsurou wants to tease him more, wants to see how far he can take it, but the next moment Kei is slipping into his lap, grinding down on him. It’s a nice surprise, considering they haven’t done much so far. Tetsurou slides his hands over Kei’s ass, pulling him in a bit closer.

Kei doesn’t say anything about that, instead leaning forward until his breath is brushing over Tetsurou’s wet lips. “You want me to, don’t you?” he asks, voice low. Warm fingers find Tetsurou’s nipple and tease over it, and then Kei is grinding down again. “Want me to make you be good? I know it’s taking a while. It’s probably driving you mad. You’re so impatient, Kuroo. But just give me a few moments. I’ll learn all your buttons, and then I’ll break you down like you want.”

“You can try,” Tetsurou hums, teasingly, arching his chest forward into Kei’s touch. It feels good, but he doesn’t want to melt into it yet. He knows it will be better, later, if he doesn’t. Know his head will only be blissfully empty if Kei has to really break him down, instead of Tetsurou easily going along with it. But Kei’s touch is still nice, warm and teasing, and Tetsurou is starting to get into it. “I’ll—”

Kei pinches his nipple. Not nicely, either. It’s sudden and sharp and such an unexpected jolt of sensation that Tetsurou is jerking from it.

“That’s better,” Kei says, coldly. Glib. He grinds down again, and Kuroo has to swallow a whine as he’s starting to feel it, wants to grind back up. “So that’s what you need, hm? Need me to shut up that smart mouth of yours? That’s why you’re being so contrary. Isn’t it? You want to lose control, but you can’t give it up. You need me to take it from you.”

“Don’t—” Tetsurou starts, and whines when Kei pinches his other nipple. His chest is throbbing from it, nerves ratcheted up and crying out. For more or less, he isn’t sure.

But he knows that this is _exactly_ what he wants, and his whole body is high-strung with anticipation, because Kei obviously knows it. Is pushing him right where he wants to be.

“Don’t worry, Kuroo,” Kei purrs into his ear, so close that Tetsurou can feel his warm breath through his fur. “I’ll give you what you want. I won’t stop until you’re a fucked out, desperate, good little slut for me.”

Tetsurou whimpers, eyes rolling up when Kei tugs at his overly sensitive nipples again. “Please,” he gasps out, breathless, and Kei is grinding down on him so good, it’s driving him mad. His mind goes blissfully _empty_ , just for a moment, nothing but need and static. He’s rocking back up helplessly, but suddenly there’s nothing there.

Kei steps back, leaving Tetsurou cold and alone. He pulls off his shirt and slacks, and any other time Tetsurou would be ecstatic about seeing Kei naked, would be aching to run his hands all over his pale, smooth skin. But Kei has _just_ pushed him to the point where he wants to be, where all he can think is _more more more_ , and his head is spinning from suddenly being left alone.

“On your knees, on the bed,” Kei tells him, not even glancing Tetsurou’s way as he folds his clothes and hangs them over his chair.

Well, tough luck for him. Tetsurou’s not about to be bossed around after Kei just left him hanging like that. Just for that alone, Tetsurou doesn’t move an inch while he’s waiting, other than to adjust his dick in his pants.

When Kei is done and turns back to him, Tetsurou smirks at him in challenge.

Kei rolls his eyes. Steps back in, one hand running through Tetsurou’s hair. Then he grabs it, and yanks. Tetsurou’s head is pulled back, making him gasp.

“What? Can't follow orders when you’re not getting your dick touched?” Kei asks, a sickeningly sweet smirk on his lips. Tetsurou has to struggle to even see him from how far back his head is pulled.

Kei’s knee comes down on the bed between his legs, putting pressure against him. It’s good at first, but then it’s getting more and more and—

Suddenly it’s all gone. Tetsurou almost falls over, struggling to pull himself forward again, when his hair gets grabbed again and he’s pulled sideways. He scrambles after it, because there’s not much else he can do. He gets his legs and arms under himself somehow, mostly on his stomach, and then his head is firmly pushed down into the mattress.

“There we go,” Kei drawls above him. “Now was that so hard?”

Tetsurou is out of breath as he pulls his face up, mind struggling to come up with his next good quip. He doesn’t get that far. Kei brings a hand down on his ass with a harsh slap, and Tetsurou’s running thoughts are blown away by white heat.

“Stay,” Kei mutters.

Tetsurou doesn’t ‘stay’ so much as he’s trying to find his bearings again, and by the time he has, Kei is already back. He holds out a black satin band in front of Tetsurou’s swimming eyes.

“This is going around your wrists,” Kei says. It’s not phrased like a question, but Tetsurou recognizes it for what it is. He nods minutely, and Kei ties his wrists together, checking once if it’s too tight before he gets back up.

Kei doesn’t get time to wonder what will happen next, when a hand wraps around his tail and pulls it up. There isn’t as much force behind it as with the other touches, maybe because Kei doesn’t know how sensitive it is. Still there is no choice but to move with it. Tetsurou's back arches as he raises his ass. With a sudden rush of heat, he realizes that he’s exactly in the position Kei wanted him, with his ass presented high in the air and him on his knees.

The mattress shifts as Kei gets on the bed behind him. Two large palms settle over the cheeks of his ass and squeeze. Even with his pants still in the way, it sends a shiver down Tetsurou’s spine.

“There we go,” Kei hums. “Finally looking like the needy slut you are. Good job.”

For the first time tonight, Kei doesn’t sound cold or unaffected. There’s still a contemptuous edge to it, but also the warm thrum of pride, of _’well done’_. Tetsurou isn’t prepared for how hard that tone hits him, for the heat and static rushing through him or the needy moan that shudders out of his chest.

He needs Kei to sound like that again. Needs it more than he needs air to breathe.

“Are you getting off just from my voice, Kuroo?” Kei asks, innocently curious about it, and the mean edge is back full force.

Tetsurou shudders.

Kei tuts. “Didn’t think you were so easy.”

Tetsurou is going a little mad. His legs won’t stop shaking and his nipples are still throbbing, his cock is so hard and it’s humiliating, everything about this, from Kei doing this to him, to pointing it out like that and being absolutely _right_ , and Tetsurou needs so badly to hear him sound proud again—

The hands on his ass squeeze and pull, and it shouldn’t feel so intense, but it does. Tetsurou is rocking back into it desperately. He hears Kei chuckle, low and pleased. Tetsurou's eyes roll up from the sound alone, and his movements only get more frantic.

Then Kei’s hand slips down, between his legs, stroking along his cock. It’s maddening, and not nearly enough with Tetsurou’s pants in the way. “Tsukki,” he whines, puffing out breaths. “Touch me.”

“Oh?” The teasing tone of Kei’s voice can’t mean anything good. “You want to be touched? It’s a pity your pants are in the way.”

Tetsurou growls in frustration, tail swishing. Kei bats it away, probably because it’s getting too close to his face. Tetsurou isn’t used to not having it spelled hidden during sex.

“Take them off then!” he demands, glaring over his shoulder.

Kei’s grin gets very dangerous. “You know I told you to take them off earlier.” He leans forward, one hand trailing down the line of Tetsurou’s spine. “And you didn’t.”

Oh, so that’s the game they’re playing? Kei is going to make him suffer for not following orders? Well, Tetsurou is not going to be played like that.

He bats his eyelashes. Flicks his ears just to really draw attention to them. His sweetest smile is on his face as he rocks his hips back into Kei’s. “But don’t you want to fuck me?” he purrs, arching his back and wiggling some more.

This always works. Tetsurou can be annoying, he knows, but he has it down to an art to look sexy in the right moments. To rile people up and then invite them in at just the right time that they are raring to fuck him into the mattress at his demand.

Kei’s hand clamps down on the back of his neck like a vice. Tetsurou yelps and has to face forward again as he’s shoved down. His pants and briefs are pulled down not a second later, cold air hitting his sensitive skin.

He raises his head just enough to gasp in a breath, and then immediately loses it in a moan as Kei hits his ass _hard_.

“You keep pushing me,” Kei says, voice running down Tetsurou’s back like ice. Another slap. Tetsurou cries out, failing to muffle it. “I’m starting to think—” The next slap has Tetsurou sobbing, hips hitching weakly in place, caught between moving away and pushing back into it, “—that you _want_ to piss me off.”

The last slap is harder than the rest, or maybe it just feels that way because Tetsurou’s skin is on fire. He gasps, desperate and high and needy.

And then there’s nothing, no follow-up touch, just cold air and his stinging skin, and in a way, that’s almost worse. His cock is leaking. He can feel the precum clinging to his stomach, from when he jolted enough to slap his cock against it.

“I don’t like to be tested, Kuroo,” Kei says, sounding very matter of fact and not at all like the mess Tetsurou is right now. “Do you want me to break you?”

The question comes out so innocent. Tetsurou’s cock twitches helplessly. Kei’s voice is enough to ruin him, he thinks, as he bites down on the need to answer ‘yes’.

He shakes when Kei runs his fingers over his heated, stinging skin and then lower, teasing on the inside of his thighs. Kei’s hand wraps around his cock as he breathes, “Pathetic.”

A garbled mess of a sound leaves Tetsurou’s lungs. It’s a close call that he doesn’t cum from the mixture of finally being touched and the humiliation he feels, the single word lighting up all his nerves with liquid heat.

Kei chuckles behind him, like this is funny somehow, like Tetsurou is some particularly pitiful thing he’s pushing around just because he can.

At the point he is right now, Tetsurou is fine with it. Anything at all is fine, if he can just see where Kei will take him.

Kei’s other hand wraps around his balls and begins to pull in the opposite direction from his weeping cock. Tetsurou trembles and cries out, and it’s not helping at all. It hurts so bad, but it’s also so, so good that he’s fucking drowning in it.

“Tsukki,” he sobs, raw and desperate. “Tsukki, please—”

“Aw, look at that,” Kei drawls, pulling again. “The little slut is trying behave suddenly.”

“Please,” Tetsurou cries again, tail thrashing and legs shaking like they’ll give out on him any second. He’s so painfully hard and he needs more so badly, but he doesn’t know what he needs anymore. Kei has turned his whole world on its head, giving him so much pain but it’s also somehow the best kind of pleasure.

Tetsurou can’t take it anymore, he’s so close—not just to getting off, but to that blissful state where he doesn’t have to think anymore—and he wants that, he needs it so much that he’s more than willing to bend a little, to play it up, to wave his submission in front of Kei’s nose like a treat. Anything, just so that Kei will give him what he wants, so that he won’t pull away again like he did earlier—

“Please, Tsukki, Sir—I’ll be your good little slut, I’ll do anything, just make me cum—”

“You think you deserve that?” Kei asks, disbelieving and mocking all at once.

Tetsurou whimpers, breath hitching in his lungs as the hands on him disappear.

“After that stunt you pulled earlier? Think I’m just going to forget what a fucking brat you were, just because you’re spreading your legs for me now and drooling all over my bed?” There’s nothing nice to Kei’s words at all. No hint of that mockingly approving tone from earlier. Tetsurou needs it back so badly. “Filthy fucking whore.”

A new slap hits his ass, lighting Tetsurou’s world up with fire and need.

If Kei keeps this up, he’s going to cum without anything else, Tetsurou thinks in a moment of aching-hot desperation.

“Want me to fuck that needy hole of yours?” Kei asks then, and Tetsurou raises his ass higher without thinking.

He is past the point of begging for it. He’s crossed the line from pretending to genuine.

“Yes,” he pants out, arching and wiggling and shaking and doing anything he can, sparks buzzing in his vision every time his nipples drag over his arms or the band tying them together. “Yes, Tsukki, come on, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be a good slut for you, please—”

Kei leans over him, fingers clamping down on Tetsurou’s hips and holding on like a vice. His hot breath on Tetsurou’s neck has him shaking. “I’m sure you will be,” Kei hums, condescending but also so _satisfied_ , as he sinks his teeth into Tetsurou’s neck without any mercy, pain lighting up everything in its path just when he wraps his hand around Tetsurou’s cock.

Tetsurou wails as he cums. His hips are thrusting back and forth in need, or would, if Kei wasn’t holding him in place with such unyielding strength, pressing bruises into Tetsurou’s skin like Tetsurou is _his_ , his neck burning where Kei is biting him. The orgasm is simultaneously amazing and excruciating, drowning him in pleasure and at the same time so terribly, horribly _empty_ , because Kei is pulling his hand away from Tetsurou’s cock right away, and there’s nothing filling him up. Nothing at all except for a few spots of sharp pain and the glib sound of Kei’s approval wrenching his soul out of his body.

Tetsurou almost falls over when it’s done. Kei holds him in place without budging, though.

Tetsurou’s lungs are aching with how hard he’s gasping for air. His eyes won’t quite stay open. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, like it will combust with just one more touch. There’s an uncomfortably wet spot beneath Tetsurou’s chin from how much he’s drooling. His mouth won’t stay closed.

There’s a tap against his ass.

“Pull yourself together. I’m not done with you yet,” Kei says, giving a squeeze to Tetsurou’s oversensitive cock. It twitches weakly, like it’s somehow more motivated for this than Tetsurou is.

Tetsurou is, he’s pretty sure, going to die. “Fuck, Tsukki,” he gasps weakly, swaying as Kei lets him go. “I'm not sure if I can go again—”

His hair is grabbed and his head is pushed down before he knows it. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kei towering above him. His cheeks look flushed, but aside from that, he doesn’t seem disheveled at all. Not like Tetsurou, who can’t quite seem to keep his mouth closed.

The cold, uncaring smile on Kei’s face is terrifying. He must have really broken Tetsurou’s brain, because it also, somehow, impossibly, has need flaring back up in him.

“Needy slut,” Kei hisses, sharp and piercing. “You think this is over just because you came your brains out? I promised you, didn’t I? I’m going to break you, and you’ll _like_ it.”

Oh, fuck. Tetsurou really is going to die today. He’s going to die, and just like Kei says, he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.

The grip on his hair loosens marginally as Kei crouches down next to the bed, leaning in close. “Yeah?” he asks, so much softer all of a sudden, no trace of his harsh disdain left. “Color?”

Surprised, Tetsurou blinks.

He needs to process for a moment. Takes stock of how he’s feeling. Then curses himself for being as much of a horny bastard as he is.

“Green,” he drawls, grinning lazily.

Kei's cold smirk slips back into place flawlessly. “Knew you were good for _something_.”

He steps out of Tetsurou’s field of vision and settles back on the mattress behind him a moment later, clicking open a bottle of what Tetsurou assumes is lube.

“You should use protection,” Tetsurou mutters as the thought comes to him belatedly. His mind is clearing up now, less desperate with lust and more lucid in a way that he really doesn’t want it to be.

Kei checking in on him is nice and responsible, yes. Important and smart because it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Tetsurou ignored his own limits and regretted it later. But—now he’s thinking again, worries and memories beginning to churn through his head endlessly once more, and that’s exactly what Tetsurou wanted to be rid of.

There’s a hum of agreement from Kei behind him. “Got it right here.”

Something cold touches against Tetsurou’s ass, making him flinch. The following disdainful chuckle has him trembling again, tail twitching before it’s batted aside once more.

“Don’t worry,” Kei hums, and even though his voice is soft, it’s cold. “I prepared. I’m not surprised that a slut like you would get around. I’ll still make you cry, though. Fuck that used hole of yours hard enough that you’ll feel me for days.”

Tetsurou shivers, eyes fluttering almost closed. He’s beginning to slip again, with Kei’s words and touch, and he only wishes he could do it faster.

It’s a bit of a haze as Kei fingers him open. He’s not putting too much effort into teasing Tetsurou, just making sure to loosen him up enough until three fingers fit comfortably inside. And then he adds more lube and keeps going. And adds more, then, and even more, until it’s dripping down Tetsurou’s legs and there’s slick squelching sounds with every twist of his fingers.

The noise alone is enough to have heat rising to Tetsurou’s cheeks, and it doesn’t help that his whole body feels sensitive, his nipples and ass and cock and balls all throbbing continuously, with every heartbeat, every touch, making Tetsurou delirious with it.

He’s back to whining and rocking before he knows it, thrusting back onto Kei’s fingers, but the damn bastard just won’t touch his prostate. Tetsurou wonders what his goal is, because Kei isn’t really stretching him anymore, and he’s hard again by now, and he can’t think of anything else that Kei is waiting for—

Unless he wants Tetsurou to beg.

Tetsurou has, already, but most of it was to tease. Kei is smart and observant, so he probably realized that. Wants to draw out more of the real thing.

Pity for him, then, that he’s given Tetsurou so much time to clear up. It’s not like Tetsurou wanted to be rational and thinking again, but here they are and they’ll both have to live with it.

Tetsurou doesn’t want to be thinking so much. It’s hazy, every time Kei’s fingers brush over the throbbing skin of his ass, making his dick and the bite on his neck pulse with a maddening mix of pain and pleasure. Tetsurou is a little worried he’ll cum at some point, even if Kei doesn’t touch his cock. It’s good, really, good, but Tetsurou still needs more.

The next time he cums, he wants it to be with Kei’s cock in his ass. He wants to see Kei as unraveled as he’s made Tetsurou feel. And he wants his own mind fucking _quiet_ for once.

He’ll need to push Kei into getting them there, somehow.

“Tsukki,” he whines, drawing out the sound. Maybe this time, if he just puts it on thick enough, he’ll be able to tease Kei into giving him what he wants. “I’m ready. I’m fucking dripping for you, stop making me wait—”

Kei’s unoccupied hand drags over the bruises forming on Tetsurou’s hips, nails scratching over heated skin. “Is that so?” Kei asks. “You think you deserve my cock after all the shit you pulled earlier?”

Tetsurou wiggles his hips. Regrets it when he feels even that in his dick and his mouth drops open in a silent groan. “Yes,” he pants out, arching his back and raising his tail in invitation. “Yes, Tsukki, fuck me, come on. Don’t you want a nice, wet hole for your cock? I’m all ready for you.” He throws a slightly shaky smirk over his shoulder.

“Huh,” Kei hums, fingers digging harshly into Tetsurou’s hips until he’s whimpering and squirming. “So you’ll be good for me now?”

“Yesss,” Tetsurou hisses, thoughts clouding over.

He will be good. He wants to hear Kei sound like _that_ again. Like Tetsurou is absolutely pathetic, but also doing everything right.

Kei’s expression becomes predatory. “Well, if you can behave now, then get that stupid tail out of my face already. Been bothering me the whole time.”

Tetsurou nods weakly. It’s new that he has his tail out like this during sex, so he’s not used to keeping it out of the way. It takes some effort, especially with how keyed up and shaky he is, but he loosely curls his tail around his waist, under his stomach. “See?” he purrs hoarsely. “I can be so good for you, Kei.”

Kei’s hand grabs the tip of his tail and pulls. Tetsurou squeaks in shock as it goes tight around him, slapping his cock up against his stomach and trapping it there, while the same hand still holding his tail pushes down on his shoulder blades, pressing him down with a sharp angle in his back. It’s a bit too much of a stretch, for his tail and back both, and Tetsurou finds himself desperately pushing his ass up higher to take off some of the strain. More lube drips down his thighs for his effort.

Something big and warm presses against his rim. The fingers that were at his hip wrap around his cock and squeeze the base, and then Kei pushes into him in one smooth thrust.

Tetsurou wails. He’s barely able to move. His cock is aching in Kei’s tight hold, and it’s probably a good thing Kei is squeezing like that, or else Tetsurou thinks he would have come again already. Kei lets go once he’s inside, and that is risky enough, because it leaves his cock to be pressed against his stomach by his tail, and it’s the weirdest fucking sensation.

Tetsurou can’t focus on it at all, though. Not with the way Kei is picking up speed, fucking into him. There’s too much lube, causing wet noises that are absolutely filthy, and Tetsurou’s whole body is on fire from it. When Kei nails his prostate, he thinks he’ll pass out.

It’s so good, now. It’s so fucking much.

Tetsurou can barely breathe, whining and moaning and screaming into Kei’s sheets.

Kei chuckles, and it’s _mean_ , and it has Tetsurou fucking _shaking_. Every muscle in his body feels tight and too hot, he’s clamping down around Kei and he knows—he knows Kei can feel it, that he can feel exactly how weak Tetsurou is for being pushed around by him—

“Don’t tell me you’re close already?” Kei asks, and his voice is hoarse and out of breath, but he still manages to sound sickeningly sweet somehow. “Didn’t you just cum? You must really like this. Getting used like a cheap toy.” He accentuates the last words with two harsh thrusts, just at the right angle.

Tetsurou trembles and whines pitifully. He’s losing his balance, tipping forward and unable to pull himself back up. He tries to, every time he forgets that his hands are bound, but then he can’t move them with the way he’s lying on them and that makes it worse, makes it _better_.

“Kei,” he pants, “Kei, I’m—fu—fuck—”

Kei grinds into him, slow and deep, and Tetsurou forgets what he wanted to say, forgets everything but this. He moans, legs straining as he tries to push himself back into Kei’s thrusts.

The hand Kei has on his hip tightens, wonderfully, and Tetsurou sobs when Kei raises his pace again. Every time it’s pleasure, shooting up his nerves, better and more and hotter and brighter—

“That’s it,” Kei croons. “Now you’re doing it right, slut.”

Tetsurou’s eyes roll up. He’s so close—he’s trying, he needs—

He wants to move and Kei isn’t letting him at all. All Tetsurou can do is _take it_.

“Kei—” he cries out. His voice doesn’t sound like his own anymore, too high, too rough, too desperate.

He’s fraying apart at the seams. He needs to cum so badly, needs Kei to touch his leaking cock. But one of Kei’s hands is still holding him in that slutty kneeling pose with his chest pressed down on his own bound hands and his tail in a stranglehold, and the other one is digging bruises into Tetsurou’s skin, lighting him up with white, throbbing pain, which is somehow even better than having his cock touched.

“What, is there something you want?” Kei laughs and Tetsurou thinks he’s going to cry from the sound of it, from how good it feels.

His belly and thighs are wet from how much he’s leaking and the mess of lube. It should be cold but Tetsurou is so hot, he’s burning up. He’s going mad from this, completely falling apart, and it’s so _so good_.

“Kei,” Tetsurou slurs. “Le’me cum, Kei, please—Kei, Kei, _Kei_ —’m good, your good little slut, I need—Kei, please, fuck—”

Kei’s chuckle, finally, is hoarse and raspy and breathless. His cock inside Tetsurou is so large, so hard, Tetsurou hopes he’s close, he hopes that Kei is going to cum, too, he wants it—

The hand that has been pressing addictive pain into his side disappears, and Tetsurou sobs.

“No, Kei, need to— _please, Kei_ —”

“Yeah,” Kei drawls behind him, and Tetsurou’s whole body shakes with it. The hand on Tetsurou’s back presses down with more force, makes it a little hard to breathe. The tip of his tail drags over the throbbing bite mark just as Kei laughs and slaps his ass hard enough to make him jerk, make the bell on his throat ring, and Kei murmurs in the most possessive, appreciative voice, “Such a pretty slut for me. You’re doing so good, Tetsurou, let me see you cum—”

Tetsurou doesn’t stand a chance.

His world explodes in light and sound and color, and he’s pretty sure he’s screaming but he can’t say for sure, crying and sobbing and rocking his ass back onto Kei’s harsh thrusts, fucking himself through it, dragging his orgasm on and on and on—

Tetsurou is nothing but this, nothing but pleasure. He thinks he’s dying and then coming back to his body to his brain melting out of his ears, and it’s not at all an exaggeration for what Kei has just done to him.

He's twitching, weakly, when he settles back down into his own body, into the here and now. Kei has gone still behind him, at some point, shaking weakly. Or maybe Tetsurou is just shaking enough for the both of them.

“Fuck,” Tetsurou hisses quietly, and his throat hurts like hell from it. Everything hurts like hell. Everything feels oddly good and floating, too. His mind is a quiet, peaceful place, in the wake of just being overloaded.

Warm hands stroke up his chest and gently nudge him to lie down on his side, next to the wet spots he has left. Tetsurou doesn’t really care, too fucked out and drowsy, content to let his eyes slip closed while he hears Kei rustling around the room, throwing away the condom and then gingerly untying Tetsurou’s hands. Tetsurou is perfectly happy to just lie there and let it happen, until the same hands poke insistently at his cheeks.

Tetsurou cracks one eye open. “What.”

Kei’s expression is unrecognizable from what it was before. Flushed and open and a little worried. “You okay?” he asks, running his fingers through Tetsurou’s hair and over his ears. “Did I push you too hard?”

“Hell yeah did you push me too hard,” Tetsurou growls. Kei’s fingers go tense. Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “And I loved every second of it. Fucking hell, have you never heard of holding back? I think I just had one of the best orgasms of my life. You’re spoiling me, Kei.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself so much,” Kei hums. And then, because apparently he wants Tetsurou’s cock to fall off, he adds on, “We should do that again sometime. I barely got to tie you up or mark you, and we didn’t have time for any of the toys.”

Tetsurou groans. It comes out hornier than he wants it to.

“Come on,” Kei says then, tugging at Tetsurou’s ear and not letting up, even though all Tetsurou wants to do is go to sleep right here and now. “I have to clean you up before Bokuto and Akaashi get home.”

Stubborn bastard that he is, Kei actually makes him get up from the bed. Tetsurou spends a good deal of time in the shower, cleaning up the mess of lube and the cum soaked into the long fur of his tail, which is a fucking _disaster_. He is never letting anything like that happen again. When he makes it back, Kei has put new sheets on the bed and a first aid kit out, bugging Tetsurou until he lets him look at the bite at his neck.

Only when he has sufficiently checked that Tetsurou is not bleeding or in any kind of undue pain, does Kei stop his mother-henning. He gives Tetsurou some very comfortable black sweatpants and then lies next to him in bed as Tetsurou is finally allowed to take a nap, which is—

Nice.

It’s really nice.

Kenma isn’t much of a cuddler, when Tetsurou usurps his bed at night. And with his usual hook-ups, Tetsurou is by this time more concerned with slipping away before Kenma’s spells wear off and he has to explain his extra cat parts to some unsuspecting soul.

It’s not an issue with Kei, though. Kei knows about the cat thing, and he’s really good at petting him. And holding him.

Tetsurou would really like to enjoy it more, but he drifts off to sleep far too soon.

When he wakes up again, he’s alone. The bed is less comfy without Kei in it, so he can’t fall back asleep, even though he’s still pleasantly drowsy.

He arches his back in a stretch before getting to his feet and shuffling into the living room. Luckily, that’s where he finds Kei. Kei has a book in his hands and is sitting in his usual armchair, opposite from the couch.

Tetsurou doesn’t feel like reading. He just wants to cuddle and nap some more. He slips down onto his knees next to Kei, rolling his head up into his lap.

“You left,” Tetsurou complains around a yawn, lazily flicking his ears until Kei takes the hint and begins to pet them.

Firm, warm, gentle touches.

 _Nice_.

Tetsurou purrs happily, eyes slipping closed once more.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” Kei answers. “You okay? Do you need a pillow for your knees? Should we move to the couch?”

“Not moving anymore,” Tetsurou grumbles, trying to sound appropriately pissed but he can’t help it when his tone gets softer. “You’re so nice, Tsukki. So worried for me.”

“Well—” There’s a very long pause. Long enough for Tetsurou to open his eyes again and turn his head around. Kei looks weird. All flustered and shifty. “I was really rough on you,” Kei mutters then. “I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“So nice to me,” Tetsurou hums again, happily, unable to stop his smile. Sex with Kei is so good, and Kei is being really great right now, and maybe this can even—

Maybe it can be a regular thing.

Maybe it can even become more than that. More than casual sex and aftercare that has his heart overflowing with something warm and bubbly.

Tetsurou’s heart is beating so fast as he thinks about it.

Then he shoves that thought away.

There’s a reason he stays away from people. Something darker and more destructive than just hiding cat ears. Tetsurou can’t get careless now. It’s bad enough that he’s putting Kenma in so much danger, but he won’t risk anyone else.

Kenma is special. They’re a team. Tetsurou couldn’t do this all on his own.

But everyone else—Hinata and Kageyama, and Daichi and Suga, Tetsurou has to keep his _distance_ from them. Both he and Kenma would be in so much danger if anyone found out that he has demon blood. Tetsurou can’t ruin their lives just because sex with Kei was fun.

Kei is going on the same list of fond acquaintances as everyone else. That’s as close as it can be. It’s fine.

Tetsurou doesn’t need anyone other than Kenma.

“Are you really good down there?” Kei asks once more, one brow raised and his book temporarily forgotten. “The floor is kind of—cold and hard.”

Tetsurou throws one arm over Kei’s legs, just so he can really drape himself over his lap and slump into a boneless puddle there. “Yeah,” he sighs sleepily, “m’fine. Used to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kei asks, and his voice is so carefully neutral all of a sudden that as much as he just wants to nap, Tetsurou can’t ignore it.

“What?” he asks, hoping that Kei can gather from his displeased tone how much he wants to be asleep right now. His head was so pleasantly empty, free from all worries, but now he’s awake and _thinking_ again and it’s the last thing he wants.

Why can’t he have a fucking _break_ for once?

“Nothing,” Kei says, in a tone that means it’s anything but. Tetsurou waits and glares a little, until Kei very cautiously adds on, “So you’re used to sitting on the floor, while you’re like—” He gestures towards Tetsurou’s somewhat human body.

It stings. Tetsurou really hopes Kei doesn’t catch the hitch in his breathing.

Things were so nice just now.

But they really—Tsukishima and Bokuto and maybe Akaashi, they really think Kenma is some fucking monster. They think that Kenma is—is making Tetsurou act like a pet, and lying to him, and abandoning him, even though that’s not happening at all. Tetsurou wishes they would understand. Wishes they would believe him.

Maybe they’d see if Tetsurou explained to them. How much Kenma is risking for him. How he’s never let Tetsurou down. How Kenma is so smart and resourceful and kind. And yes, Tetsurou listens to him, but only because he trusts Kenma with all he has and it has always worked out for the best.

But Tetsurou can’t tell them. He’s not going to put him and Kenma at risk. He won’t destroy their life here. He won’t destroy what he has right now, by blurting out something as stupid as ‘I’m a demon and Kenma is just helping me pretend I’m not’.

Fondly remembered acquaintances don’t need that kind of knowledge about him, anyway.

The tight pressure around Kei’s eyes still kills him, though.

“Kenma likes to sit on the floor a lot,” Tetsurou murmurs quietly. “I like to bother him.”

Kei’s nod comes very slowly. “Okay,” he says, and Tetsurou wonders if he’s accepting what Tetsurou just said. If he believes it, or if he thinks that Tetsurou is lying because he doesn’t want to admit how bad things are.

Things _are_ bad. Tetsurou might never get to bother Kenma again, if he doesn’t come back from this alive. Kenma missed his _birthday_ and that never happens, so something has to be really _wrong_ —

Kei goes back to petting Tetsurou’s hair, at last, occasionally rubbing the soft skin of his ears between his fingers. That is very nice. Maybe if Tetsurou can just focus on that instead of on his grim thoughts, he can finally have his nap now.

He slumps back down, nuzzling into Kei’s lap. His eyes slip closed. It takes some time, but then his purr rises up all on its own. Kei’s touch is so gentle as Tetsurou drifts off—

And then a loud crack tears through the silence as the door is slammed open.

* * *

Koutarou is not going to lie. He loves every minute he gets to spend with Keiji. He loves their dates, loves every single smile Keiji sends his way—but right now he really hopes Keiji is in the mood to let him fuck him into the mattress, or the other way around. Koutarou isn’t picky.

Keiji doesn’t like it when Koutarou is affectionate in public, and Koutarou gets that and accepts that, but he’s also a little bit desperate. The moment he’s got their door open and shoved Keiji inside, all bets are off.

He’s kissing Keiji’s lips, the corner of his mouth, his cheeks and his ears and the slim column of his throat and he’s not going to stop until—

Well, Keiji is patting his shoulder with an unhappy little sound, so apparently Koutarou is going to stop right now.

He pulls back, worried that it was too much, but Keiji isn’t even looking at him. That confused, pinched little frown is directed at something else. Koutarou follows his gaze and it’s—

That’s—

Tsukki looks shocked to see them already, caught off guard, and Koutarou knows they’re home earlier than usual, but that’s—it happens, but Tsukki’s expression is very wary right now, probably because he has Kuroo fucking _kneeling_ at his feet, a dark bruise purpling on Kuroo’s naked back and Kuroo’s face is fucking nuzzling into Tsukki’s crotch, and Koutarou can’t even put into words what the worst thing is in this situation, can’t fucking think with the sudden blinding heat roaring through his brain—

Kuroo is on the ground like he’s some fucking animal, and Tsukki is petting him like he still thinks Kuroo’s just a cat, and it’s so fucking _wrong_.

They should be treating Kuroo like a person, should be nice to him, be better than that fucking asshole who kicked him to the curb—

And Kuroo looks so okay with it, somehow, for some reason, like there’s nothing wrong with being made to kneel on the floor. And not that there aren’t moments when that happens, when people want that kind of thing, but Koutarou has barely even seen those two talk, so why would they suddenly—what did they—

The thought of what Tsukki could have done to Kuroo has Koutarou’s heart fluttering weakly. There’s some ruthless, hungry part of him that’s really turned on by the idea and Koutarou _hates_ it, hates himself for not being completely disgusted by it. They should be treating Kuroo _well_ , so Kuroo can learn that he’s more than some pet who has to wait for his master to come back for him, but instead Tsukki did—did—

Koutarou doesn’t know for sure, and all he can think of infuriates him, because it’s hot, but it’s so wrong for Kuroo right now, and he can’t believe Tsukki wouldn’t see that, or wouldn’t care—

It’s so much, Koutarou’s shaking with it, thoughts racing, it can’t have been more than a second since he spotted them but he still can’t really comprehend it all—

He wants to yell, to shout, to _scream_. There is anger burning and pounding in his chest, and _want_ , and that only makes him angrier—

Keiji’s hand slips into his, cool and soft and gentle, and finally Koutarou can breathe again. His heart goes back to beating like it should. The rush of blood in his ears fades out, a little.

“What are you _doing_?” he presses out, glaring at Tsukki, and his voice is raw with how furious he is but at least he’s not shouting. He’s worried that it would upset Kuroo if he got too loud.

Tsukki, smug bastard that he is, trades his ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look in for the most aggravating smirk, the kind that Koutarou wants to punch right off his stupid face. “Oh, us?” Tsukki asks, all simpering innocence, like there’s nothing wrong at all about Koutarou and Keiji coming home to find him with Kuroo kneeling half-naked at his feet. He runs his fingers over Kuroo’s ears, and it has Koutarou’s hackles rising. “We just spent some quality time together.”

“You call that—” Koutarou growls, cutting himself off when Keiji firmly squeezes his hand and slides up close to him, face pressing to Koutarou’s neck. Koutarou thinks he can feel him shaking a little.

“Kou, please,” Keiji breathes, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make this a fight you’ll regret later.”

But Koutarou wants to.

He really fucking wants to. He’s going to shout at Tsukki, all the reasons why this is wrong, all the ways it could hurt Kuroo, everything about this that is twisted and makes sickening bad feelings gurgle up in Koutarou, and it will be—

It will probably end in a shouting match between him and Tsukki, like it sometimes has before, and then it will get awfully tense in their apartment, and Keiji will try so desperately to make them talk and not be able to sleep at night because he can’t take people yelling mean things at each other. And Kuroo will probably feel bad about it, too, because he looks really content where he is right now and maybe he shouldn’t have to listen to Koutarou yelling that it’s something dirty and wrong—

It’s not the right thing for Kuroo right now, Koutarou is sure of that, but it’s still something Kuroo did so Koutarou can’t go screaming at him to his face that he’s wrong for wanting it.

He _just_ apologized to Kuroo for hurting his feelings. They just started being friends and spending time together again.

Keiji is right that Koutarou would regret it. He would just hurt Kuroo right now with what he wants to say, even though all he wants is for Kuroo to be happy.

He makes himself inhale and exhale deeply, shoulders slumping from where they were straining upwards.

Kuroo turns towards them, cracking those beautiful golden eyes open. “Can I finally take a nap now?” he asks, the words coming out a little slurred.

Tsukki—

Koutarou is taken aback by the look in his eyes. The nasty, cold glare there, directed at Koutarou, as if _he_ is the one in the wrong here, is the one doing something bad to Kuroo. Like Koutarou and Keiji are intruding on something right now, even though it’s something that shouldn’t be happening, and even though those two are sitting right in the middle of their shared living room.

“Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Keiji mumbles quietly into his neck and squeezes his hand again.

With a grunt and a fierce glare at Tsukki, Koutarou agrees.

Before they disappear through the door to their room, he glances out into the living room one more time. Gets caught in the way Tsukki trails his fingers through Kuroo’s hair, book lying forgotten at his side. There’s a soft little smile on Tsukki’s face that’s more peaceful than Koutarou has ever seen him. Kuroo’s back is a mess, one large bruise stretching over his neck and more peeking out from his low-riding pants. But Koutarou can hear him purring quietly.

They look oddly happy together, in a way that has Koutarou’s chest aching and sets his blood on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u pretend that last scene didn't happen, it's almost like this was a happy (read: horny) chapter


	8. Living Together Not A Power Struggle, Man Who’s Winning Reports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, i hope you're all dealing with the corona situation okay! i'd love to say that i have more time for writing now that there's a ban on going out and meeting people, but my pole dance studio came up with online classes in literally one day, so not much has changed lol  
> anyway, have some more smut and a lot of drama

Koutarou is terribly upset over this.

It would be hard for Keiji to miss, with how much Koutarou keeps ranting about “When did those two ever become a thing?” for the rest of the evening.

Keiji tries his best to talk Koutarou through it and make him feel better—and hide how much it stings. He doesn’t mind talking to Koutarou about things, really, it’s just—

It’s Thursday night. Date night. _Their_ night.

And it ended up being all about Tsukishima and Kuroo.

A lot of their conversations lately have been about Kuroo.

And that’s alright. Things happen. It’s not always possible to have a whole evening just to themselves, and Kuroo has so suddenly shown up and become a friend to them while being tangled up in a very complicated and mysterious mess, so of course they will talk about him every once in a while—

Koutarou is so fiercely protective of him. It’s such an admirable thing, reminding Keiji why he loves Koutarou so much. Koutarou just wants to make sure that Kuroo is happy and not being hurt or taken advantage of, and he’s so happy to have someone less reserved around who roughhouses with him and shares his love for video games, and Keiji is happy for him for finding such a good new friend.

Really, he is.

He is happy.

He doesn’t see it coming at all.

That’s probably why it hurts so much. Because he doesn’t suspect a thing.

Not until he wakes up the next morning and runs his fingers up Koutarou’s arms and finds soft, downy little feathers beginning to sprout from Koutarou’s shoulders.

Koutarou always starts growing feathers in the winter, usually at the end of the year, when it’s cold and snowy. He mostly seems annoyed by them, but Keiji thinks they’re beautiful.

Koutarou told him they only grew in one other time. When Koutarou was really starting to fall for him. As if Koutarou’s body was trying its best to impress him and look as good as possible.

It’s not the end of the year yet. It’s only mid-November.

It’s—

It has to be Kuroo.

Keiji knows in that moment, with absolute certainty.

Koutarou loves Kuroo.

Koutarou is going to _leave him_.

Keiji should have seen it coming. Koutarou is always going on about Kuroo. Always so concerned, always hanging around him, and of course he got so furious when he saw Kuroo lounging on Tsukishima’s lap right after they obviously had sex—

Koutarou and Kuroo fit so well together. They are both loud and easily excited, they like to joke around and are open with their touches, affectionately falling all over each other. They have the same interests and so much energy and they always smile when they’re together, now that they’ve stopped fighting.

Keiji is different. He knows. He’s quiet and reserved and doesn’t like shouting. He doesn’t like being touched a lot, or grabbed suddenly. He likes to sit and read while Koutarou likes to run around. He likes to have some time to himself while Koutarou always wants company. He can’t even accept Koutarou calling him by his first name when someone else is around. He can barely make himself do _any_ of the things that Koutarou wants. Most of the time he can’t. Koutarou wilts like a flower every time Keiji pulls away from a touch or a whispered endearment.

It’s—It’s probably the best for Koutarou that he has found someone like Kuroo. Someone who can give him all the open love and affection he wants and needs and deserves.

Keiji knows he can’t do it.

His throat is scratchy and tight as his first tears fall. He pulls his hands away from Koutarou’s shoulders.

When Koutarou wakes up and asks him what’s wrong with frantic worry in his eyes, Keiji lies and says he had a bad dream.

They will have to talk about this. Talk about their feelings and what is happening. And Keiji will have to let him go, so Koutarou can be happy.

Koutarou deserves someone who makes him happy. Someone who gives him back all that light and energy and joy. Keiji loves him, loves everything that Koutarou has given him, but he doesn’t know how to give any of it back. That’s—something Kuroo will have to do.

But not yet. Not now.

Just for a few days longer, at least, Keiji wants to keep holding on to Koutarou.

It’s wrong, and it’s selfish, but he can’t let go of the love of his life just yet.

* * *

Kei can’t believe his luck when Bokuto and Akaashi are out of the apartment at the same time to buy groceries and Kuroo approaches him with a hungry look in his eyes. They don’t have much time and Kei hasn’t had the chance to really prepare for anything, so they go through things quick and messy. Kuroo opens up easily and eagerly for Kei’s fingers and then his cock, splayed out on Kei’s bed like the most wonderful treat.

The last time, Kei didn’t get to see his face when they did this, and he’s starting to think that he missed out. Kuroo is a vision, cheeks flushed, golden eyes sparkling brightly with want, mouth hanging open with breathy sounds.

As it turns out, when Kei is not very intent on pushing Kuroo to his limits, Kuroo doesn’t have much shame—but he has a lot of bite.

Figuratively and literally. Kei’s chest is stinging with teeth marks and hickeys, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold on with Kuroo purring in his ear, everything from “Fuck, Tsukki, your cock feels so good stretching me open” to “Yes, yes, right there, _yes_ —”

It isn’t until Kuroo starts rocking his hips back against him, teeth flashing in a dangerous, teasing grin as he drawls, “C’mon, Tsukki, do I have to fuck myself now,” that Kei snaps. He grabs Kuroo’s legs and shoves them up further, hoping that will shut him up. But no. Kuroo just moves with it and then rolls his hips up in a swiveling motion that both looks and feels amazing.

“If you’re getting tired just say so,” Kuroo hums, the most infuriating smirk playing over his lips.

“Shut up,” Kei grunts. He pushes harder, but it doesn’t appear to bother Kuroo at all. Either Kuroo is the most flexible person alive or this is another cat thing. Kei doesn’t care to ask at this point. He's more preoccupied with how put together Kuroo still looks.

The last time they fucked, he blew Kuroo’s mind. At least, Kuroo said he did.

Kei wants to do that again, but right now—Kuroo is definitely enjoying himself, but he’s not the moaning, fucked out mess that he was last time.

Kei purses his lips, thinking. On his next thrust, instead of pushing back in, he pulls out completely. “Actually, you know what,” he drawls, unable to hide his grin at the way Kuroo’s eyes go wide with disbelief and protest. “I _am_ getting pretty tired. Mind sucking me off and I’ll get you later?”

Golden, cat-like eyes narrow in suspicion and consideration. Kei is still learning to read Kuroo, just like Kuroo is still learning to read him. He’s probably trying to do that right now. Figure out Kei’s angle.

But Kei is one step ahead of him.

He has already caught on that there is a very delicate system behind when Kuroo will do as he says and when he’ll be a shit about it. For one, Kuroo only does things when he’s currently in the mood for it. Secondly, Kuroo will refuse to do something by default when he thinks that annoying Kei would be more fun. Third, Kuroo gets very compliant once Kei has really pushed him to the edge of desperation and beyond, and that is something that Kei really, _really_ wants to see again, though maybe he’ll have to wait for another day when they’ll have more time.

Eventually, Kuroo blinks and grins at him. “Fine. I’ve wanted to suck you off anyway.”

Even though he asked for it, Kei’s breathing goes a little short as Kuroo twists around and situates himself between Kei’s legs, tongue already lolling out to lick a stripe up the inside of Kei’s thigh, and—

It’s rough. Cat-like. In theory, Kei knew that. He kissed it and touched it. But he really underestimated how good it would feel, and the first moan is stuttering out of him before he knows it. He thinks he can hear Kuroo muffle laughter, but can’t bring himself to care when that devious tongue runs up his thigh again and then over his balls.

Kuroo licks and teases and nips at the sensitive inside of his thighs with wonderfully sharp teeth, until Kei thinks he’ll go mad. When did Kuroo become so patient?

Kei is just beginning to think that maybe handing over so much control to Kuroo might not have been such a good idea, when Kuroo smirks up at him and then runs his tongue up the length of Kei’s cock.

It’s a small blessing that he can’t feel it as much with the condom in the way, and probably the only reason he doesn’t come embarrassingly fast.

He doesn’t last long as it is, not with the way Kuroo keeps sending heated looks up at him, licking and swallowing down as much of Kei’s cock as he can and fucking _purring_ around Kei, shaking vibrations through him. Kei ends up coming with a weak groan, his shaking hands fisted into the sheets in a death grip.

Kuroo, that fiend, is smirking up at him, wide and toothy and satisfied, close enough to brush his lips against Kei’s spent cock as he asks, “Had fun?”

Kei shivers and gasps and makes himself nod. It has Kuroo’s grin stretching even wider, content and sharkish.

Kuroo looks like he’s just bested Kei at something, and maybe that’s just something Kei thinks, because he knows he can be petty and childish at times.

But it’s still a very nice feeling when he has Kuroo pushed down on his back a minute later, three fingers buried in Kuroo’s ass and his other hand wrapped loosely around Kuroo’s cock, and _Kuroo_ is the one who’s out of breath and moaning.

Kei is feeling immense satisfaction as he hums, “Well, since I’m so tired, you better work for it if you want to cum.”

Kuroo glares at him, for a moment, and then he grins back in challenge.

It’s breathtaking to watch Kuroo fuck his hands. He doesn’t have to do anything and still he gets to see how Kuroo is slowly falling apart. Kei can’t hold himself back from leaning in closer, gaze roving over every little detail, from Kuroo’s flushed cheeks and messy hair down to his rippling muscles as he rocks himself down onto Kei’s fingers and up into his fist.

“Does it feel good?” Kei can’t help himself but ask, in the teasing sort of tone that makes it clear Kei already knows. “You look so desperate like this.”

Kuroo’s bright eyes flutter shut, his head rolling back. “You _nnh_ —know it does, Tsukki,” he gasps, and Kei does know, but he enjoys hearing it from Kuroo even more. Enjoys it just as much as seeing Kuroo get more disheveled from his words.

“You’re so eager for it,” Kei purrs, delighted to hear Kuroo’s little whine. “I can feel your hole clenching around my fingers. Is it not enough for you after having my cock?”

“Fuck, Kei,” Kuro bites out, and Kei has to suppress his own shiver at the way Kuroo is moaning his name. Hazy golden eyes settle on him, and despite how fucked out he looks, Kuroo still manages a grin. “Gonna make me cum talking like that.”

“Oh, really?” Kei hums. “Maybe I should stop touching you then.” Kuroo whimpers, and Kei laughs, low and a little mean.

Kuroo’s tail twists and curls around the arm that Kei is stroking his cock with. “Please,” Kuroo gasps.

Kei hums like he’s thinking about it. “I guess I can’t say no to a pretty slut like you.”

The smooth roll of Kuroo’s hips stutters, and then gets harsher. Needier. He groans, loud and throaty, and the sound has a shiver running down Kei’s spine.

Kei licks his lips, almost regretting that he already came and can’t fuck Kuroo again so soon. “Well, come on, work for it. Before I change my mind.”

He watches, entranced, as Kuroo’s flush spreads down to his heaving chest. As Kuroo’s eyes, those damned, golden eyes, stay fixed on Kei as if somehow, impossibly, Kei could be as fascinating for Kuroo to watch as it is the other way around.

Kei laughs, a mean, taunting sound, just to see the way Kuroo trembles helplessly at that. “You’re so shameless. Don’t know why I’m even bothering with my hands. I should give you some toys and you’d hump them just as desperately, hm? You just want something to touch your pathetic cock. Are you going to cum from this? Or do you need more? Maybe the little pain slut can’t get off without getting slapped around?”

He can feel Kuroo’s cock jump with every taunt. Kei curls his fingers inside Kuroo and Kuroo cries out. “s’good,” he whines, high and desperate and needy. Kei loves it. “Please, Kei, give me—”

“Then stop wasting my time, you pathetic whore.”

Kuroo’s mouth falls open. His eyes roll up. It’s beautiful. He has to be close.

“Let me see your useless cock cum already,” Kei hisses, impatient and as disdainful as he dares.

Kei is very glad that this time, he’s watching Kuroo’s face as he cums, gets to see how his mouth drops open further in a shaky groan, how his back arches and his hips rise up from the mattress, hitching in small abortive thrusts into Kei’s hands to a steady stream of “Yes, yes, Kei, yes—”

Afterwards, Kuroo slumps down, limbs sprawling everywhere as he gasps for air.

It takes about five seconds before he turns to look at Kei, his grin wide and satisfied as he hums, “Mmmh. Nice.”

Kei pulls his hands away and thinks he should have asked Kuroo to wear a condom, too. Now the mess is everywhere.

“You didn’t come nearly as hard as last time,” he points out critically. He’ll have to try for that next time. Kuroo can’t end up thinking that sex with him is predictable and boring.

Kuroo raises his head up marginally from where he’s slouched, already back to being calm and focused. “You know you don’t have to make me come my brains out every time, right? This was nice, too.”

Kei blinks.

A few times.

“I know that,” he huffs then. “But I promised to tie you up and use some toys, and I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Oh, me too, definitely,” Kuroo hums, slumping back down and somehow stretching out so far that he’s taking up all of Kei’s bed. Damn cat.

Kei stands up to get a washcloth and clean them up before Bokuto and Akaashi come back and it turns into another stand-off. The last thing he wants is for Kuroo to think that every time they fuck, it will lead to everyone being at each other’s throats. Kuroo definitely wouldn’t want to hook up with him anymore if that happened.

Better if Bokuto and Akaashi aren’t aware of what Kei and Kuroo are doing, then. It’s much safer that way.

More—private, too.

They didn’t do anything as wild as last time today. But Kuroo said he still had fun. Kei isn’t sure how much he’s willing to believe that. But it’s—

It was nice to hear.

Doing this with Kuroo, having sex, whether it’s kinky or more relaxed, it’s—very nice. Kei thinks he likes it. Likes it a lot.

He, maybe—likes Kuroo, too.

Just a little bit.

* * *

Tetsurou is beginning to really enjoy living here.

Like, it was nice enough before, but now it’s moved on from a simple ‘okay’ to ‘really fucking amazing’.

He gets people food again, instead of that terrible kibble he had for a while, and his days pass in easy bliss between helping with chores and hanging out with three handsome guys who are suddenly all willing to spend time with him again.

If Tetsurou didn’t go out of his mind with worry as soon as he stops to think about Kenma, it would be perfect.

He tells himself that it’s good enough as it is. Kenma has to be fine, after all, since he would call on Tetsurou for help otherwise. And the telepathic connection Kenma forged between them is still closed down whenever Tetsurou tries to reach through, but it’s there. So Kenma has to be at the other end, alive and moderately well.

Tetsurou has to believe that. If he doesn’t, he can’t breathe anymore.

Luckily he doesn’t have to think about it much, because usually he can bother Kei about something or other, or read one of Keiji’s books, or play something with Bokuto.

Tetsurou is really fucking glad that he and Bokuto are getting along again. It stung when they didn’t.

But now they’re back on track, and Bokuto always makes time for him. Invites Tetsurou to hang out or watch TV or play video games or just talk about things. Tetsuoru really enjoys it.

The only downside is that he maybe enjoys it a little bit too much.

He’s spoiled now, by Kei responding so eagerly to his offer of having casual sex—and really good sex, too, and now he’s much nicer about it when Tetsurou drapes himself over him to cuddle, which is a great added bonus—and that is all good, but.

Tetsurou shouldn’t push it too far. Shouldn’t reach for more than he’s allowed to take, even if he wants it.

Bokuto and Akaashi are not something he should pursue.

They’re a couple. They’re happy together. They don’t seem to mind inviting other people into their bed, occasionally, since they’ve done it with Kei, but that doesn’t mean they’d want Tetsurou, too. That’s one hell of a gamble.

Especially since, even though Akaashi likes him, and Bokuto likes him, Tetsurou has heard them fight over him. If he involves themselves with them any deeper, it might just make that worse.

And as much as Tetsurou is greedy and wants to get into their pants, he won’t do it at the risk of hurting their relationship. He’s not an asshole. He’s just going to have a very nice friendship with both of them, with a respectful bit of distance.

Fond acquaintances, he reminds himself.

It shouldn’t be too hard. Bokuto doesn’t seem to like it very much when Tetsurou climbs into his lap, and Akaashi always squirms away, too. They were fine with it when he was a cat, but apparently catboy form is a different deal.

That’s not unreasonable. Not everyone wants grown men in their laps. Tetsurou can totally live with that—it just means he slinks over to Kei more often, and really hopes that Kei will be in the right mood. He isn’t always. He especially isn’t when Bokuto or Akaashi are around, because they always start glaring then.

Tetsurou is maybe a little starved for cuddles.

He wonders when he got so used to them in the first place.

He’s always enjoyed close contact and physical attention, way more than Kenma who’s also part cat spirit. Maybe it’s Tetsurou’s personality. Maybe it’s because Tetsurou has more cat spirit heritage. It certainly isn’t the demon blood.

Kenma used to pet him sometimes.

Still does. It’s not like Kenma is _gone_. He’s just not here right now.

Kenma pets him sometimes. There.

Mostly when he’s not too busy working on other things. The rest of the time, Tetsurou just drapes himself over Kenma’s lap or over his shoulder or over his back and is happy enough like that.

It was a rare treat that Kei and Akaashi and Bokuto were all so willing to pet him and comb their fingers through his fur and scratch his ears and the whole shebang. It was really fucking nice, but of course it would be different for them now that Tetsurou doesn’t look like a cat anymore. He can’t begrudge them that.

He still misses it, though. The easy way he could just press up against them and instantly receive an affectionate pat and a smile.

Tetsurou will just have to get used to how things are now. Not everyone enjoys petting him when he looks more human. That’s life.

He has other things now. Good things. After all, things are really good over all!

For example, he couldn’t play Mario Kart with Bokuto when he was a cat. No thumbs and all that.

He also couldn’t lose to Bokuto at Mario Kart, though, so it’s a bit of a double-edged sword.

“No way!” he cries out when Bokuto shoots over the finish line a second before he does. “I can’t belive you keep getting those fucking stars!”

Bokuto laughs, loud and boisterous. “Hah, that’s just because I’m so great!”

“It’s unfair, is what it is,” Tetsurou grumbles. “Rematch?”

“Hell yes,” Bokuto agrees.

Tetsurou hopes they’re not disturbing Akaashi too much. It has to be hard to focus on any assigned reading with how loud they’re being. But Akaashi is still sitting with them instead of retreating to his and Bokuto’s room, and he hasn’t complained, so Tetsurou assumes it has to be okay.

They play another round. Tetsurou really thinks he’s going to win this time. He’s seconds away from the finish line and Bokuto’s kart is nowhere in sight—

“Oh, fuck off!” he whines when a banana peel appears in front of him and throws him off course.

Bokuto cackles like a fucking madman as he crosses Tetsurou and wins. Again. “Yeeees!” he roars, arms raising up high. “Witness me, blood bag!”

When Tetsurou gives him his best hurt look—brows drawn up and lip pushed out and ears drooping down all sad—Bokuto chuckles and bumps his shoulder.

“You’ll get me next time,” he promises, sounding all upbeat and cheerful about it, too, like he doesn’t really care who wins so long as Tetsurou has fun. Tetsurou doesn’t believe him for a second. Not with how often Bokuto has stolen certain victory from him now.

But he also doesn’t really mind, with the remnants of touch still echoing through him. It’s a pity Bokuto pulled back after just a second.

“I’m getting you this time, Bo,” Kuroo says, and the shortened version of Bokuto’s name is slipped in as casual as possible, like it doesn’t mean anything, like he doesn’t even notice, like it’s just a simple little thing.

Which it isn’t.

It’s really not, because Bokuto spends so much time with him, but he never touches Tetsurou anymore, never pulls him into his lap or smiles like the sun when Tetsurou is purring for him.

Just now, for only a second, Tetsurou had that back, and he needs more, he wants it so badly, and he’s greedy—

He's always known that he’s greedy. It has always had him reaching for things that aren’t his.

Like using the shortened version of Bokuto’s name, the one he’s only heard Akaashi use. That’s probably not his to take.

But Tetsurou wants it.

Kenma isn’t here and Tetsurou is going out of his fucking mind with worry and he just needs to feel fucking close to _someone_. So if he’s trying to grab intimate touches and nicknames like little trophies of ‘I matter to this person, I’m not alone, I’m not falling apart’, then _so what_. He could probably do worse.

He’s not even sure if Bokuto notices at all. Bokuto doesn’t flinch or hesitate at all as he picks his controller back up and sets up a new game, skipping through tracks and asking Tetsurou which one he would like.

Tetsurou releases a small breath and thanks his lucky stars.

He always reaches for things that aren’t his to take. But if he can have something?

He’s going to fucking take it.

He’s childish, maybe. Thinking this is _his_ piece of connection now, he’s grabbed it, he’s not giving it back. But he needs it right now. Needs _something_ to hold on to.

Bokuto is ‘Bo’ to him for the rest of the afternoon, and doesn’t complain once. Later, when Tetsurou admits defeat after yet another unexpected loss, he notices that Akaashi has slipped away at some point.

* * *

Kei isn’t sure what’s going on.

Kuroo has become—clingier, is perhaps the right word.

He spends more time in Kei’s room. Demanding attention.

Kei expects to grow annoyed by it quickly, and is surprised when that doesn’t happen.

Somehow, Kuroo seems to be perfectly able to toe the fine line between drawing Kei away from his work when it only annoys him, and leaving him to it when it’s necessary.

It’s probably just something that’s happening because they’ve had sex. Kuroo knows how to wheedle irritation and fondness from Kei now, and he demands both frequently. It’s not a big deal.

Kei doesn’t even care that much. He’s not so silly as to develop feelings after some fucking and a bit of cuddling. But it’s also—not _not_ nice.

To be wanted. To be appreciated. To be told, time and time again, when Kuroo wants something and then being able to deliver and make Kuroo sigh out in bliss. To have Kuroo coming to _him_ when he needs something.

To closed off, silent, stand-offish Kei.

Not anyone else. _Kei_.

Kei knows that being liked by Kuroo is not a competition. There wouldn’t even be many other contenders, since Kuroo only spends time with him and the two other people in this apartment.

But if it _was_ a competition, Kei would be winning.

It’s a heady feeling.

Kei likes it. He’s able to give Kuroo things that nobody else can. Kuroo doesn’t hold back with his praises, always lets Kei know when he likes something or when Kei is doing something particularly good, is touching the right spot or holding him in a way he likes or just that he’s spending time with Kuroo at all. Kei also likes all of that.

Really likes it.

Seeing a blissed out little smile on Kuroo’s face, and knowing he was the one to put it there. Hearing Kuroo laugh, even though he sounds like a fucking movie villain about it when he really gets into it. Other things, too, like the little crease that builds between Kuroo’s brows when he’s really focused on Kei’s calculations, or the crooked way he grins when he’s joking around, or the sudden flick of his ears when Kei is scratching them just right and Kuroo is going boneless.

Kei likes all of it. Maybe a little too much.

What he doesn’t like is the way Bokuto won’t stop glaring at him whenever he sees Kei and Kuroo together. Like Kei is doing something wrong. Like he’s hurting Kuroo somehow.

Kei only hurts Kuroo in ways that he enjoys. That’s the whole point. That’s why they work so well together. Kei has some more out-there kinks, and he’s never found someone who really likes being humiliated during sex or hurt or talked down to, but Kuroo does, he fucking loves it, and it’s an amazing experience for both of them.

Fuck Bokuto for thinking so low of them. For thinking that Kei would—what? Hurt Kuroo if he didn’t like it? Or does Bokuto just not believe that Kuroo can choose for himself what he wants?

For as much as Bokuto keeps going on about treating Kuroo like a person, he sure is the one who listens the least to what Kuroo actually wants. It’s hypocritical as hell, and it pisses Kei off to no end.

He can already see that it’s going to end in a fight between him and Bokuto, if he lets it, so he tries to keep his distance as much as possible.

It doesn’t work forever, of course.

Kei has to grant Bokuto that it’s a smart set-up, because Akaashi and Kuroo have just slipped away into Akaashi’s and Bokuto’s room to discuss some book they’ve both read and apparently hated the main character of, and Kei has just started cooking so he can’t slip away when Bokuto steps into the kitchen with him. Guy looks like a damn bouncer, arms crossed and shoulders wide, a grim glare on his face.

“What are you doing with Kuroo?” he asks, like it’s actually any sort of business of his what Kei and Kuroo do in their free time together.

Kei has avoided this fight. Mostly because he knew he wouldn’t back down once it happens.

Bokuto is being a hypocritical asshole and involving himself in matters that don’t concern him, and Kei is way too fond of what he and Kuroo have to allow Bokuto to trample all over it. He’s pissed, and he knows he’s in the right, and he can’t fucking wait to shove it in Bokuto’s self-righteous face.

“What do you mean?” he asks over his shoulder, casually stirring his vegetables around in the pan.

Bokuto already looks like he wants to fly off the rails. His eyes get all wide with anger, and his face goes red, and Kei is loving it.

“I’m talking about you and Kuroo!” Bokuto snaps, because he doesn’t have any sort of patience whatsoever. Kei really doesn’t know how Akaashi puts up with him. “I’m talking about us coming home to see you with Kuroo fucking—fucking _kneeling_ at your feet!”

“Ah, that,” Kei hums, like it’s no big deal at all. It isn’t. Bokuto can have his vanilla sex or whatever he wants, but he doesn’t get to look down on Kei for liking something else. He doesn’t get to make Kuroo feel bad about it. “I didn’t ask for that. Kuroo did that on his own.”

Kei can see the moment Bokuto falters slightly. How the tension in his shoulders deflates just a little, as he thinks over Kei’s words, as he considers that maybe he shouldn’t be fighting with Kei over this.

But Kei—he knows, actually, that he’s being an asshole about this. But he’s fucking pissed, and he’s not going to let this chance to let things out into the open slide between his fingers now. So instead of saying something nice, or calm, or even reasonable, he grins and hums—

“He likes being on his knees for me, you know? Maybe it’s because I fuck him so good when he does it. I had to teach him, though, he didn’t listen very well at first—”

“Tsukki, what the hell!” Bokuto squawks, and Kei wants to fucking laugh at him. So he does.

“He’s cute when he cries, you know?” he drawls with a mean smile. “You just have to insult him. Show him his place when he’s trying to tell you no about something. And hit him a few times when he doesn’t—”

He doesn’t get further than that, because he’s grabbed suddenly, and pushed up against the fridge with so much force that it has the air wheezing out of lungs. His head is spinning. He has to blink for his vision to clear and when it does, he recoils, because—

He's never seen Bokuto so furious. Eyes narrowed, sparking an electric yellow. Pupils drawn into thin slits that are definitely not human. Teeth bared and his grip on Kei’s shirt so tight that it’s painful. Bokuto’s shaking, like he’s barely holding himself back, and for the first time in his life, Kei is scared that Bokuto will hurt him. Really hurt him.

“Shut up,” Bokuto growls, quieter than before but no less dangerous for it. Like he’s keeping his voice down just because he knows he’ll explode if he allows any more anger to leak out of him. “You don’t get to—you don’t get to fucking hurt him! He’s been through enough! He’s not some fucking pet for you to have your fun with, he’s—he’s a fucking person! Keep your fucking hands away from him! None of us should—”

Kei’s ears are ringing. Bokuto’s words are almost bleeding together for him, but in that second—it clicks.

Of _fucking course_ that’s what this is about.

It all makes sense now. How protective Bokuto is over Kuroo. How he insists that they should keep Kuroo around. How upset he gets over seeing Kuroo together with Kei.

Bokuto is even more of a self-righteous, hypocritical asshole than Kei thought, and it has Kei’s blood boiling. His self-preservation tries to rear its head and gets pushed down by the rush of blood, by the need to push back against Bokuto until he’s fucking crying.

“You’re _jealous_ ,” Kei crows, delighted about his realization and even more so about the way Bokuto suddenly goes tense. “That’s why you’re so pissed. You fucking asshole.”

“I’m not—” Bokuto defends himself, instantly, but Kei isn’t having any of his shit right now.

“Does it feel good, huh?” he hisses, grinning. He’s feeling a little out of it, but so good. He’s finally seen through Bokuto’s self-righteous act. “Do you feel like a hero now? For making me the bad guy and pushing me around? So you can save poor, helpless, little Kuroo? Is that what you get off on, huh? Seeing broken little things and gathering them up so you can put them back together how you want them? It worked really well with Akaashi, right, he’s such a good doll for you to play with—”

“Shut up,” Bokuto hisses, and he sounds caught somewhere between furious and close to tears.

But Kei isn’t done yet. He’s being eaten alive by something ugly but powerful, and he’s taking the big, buff, perfect, wonderful Bokuto down with just _words_. He wants to know how much he can do. He wants to see Bokuto break. Because Bokuto—

He doesn’t get to do this to Kei. He already has Akaashi. He doesn’t get to take Kuroo, too.

“That’s why you can’t stand me, isn’t it?” Kei crows, feeling a cold smile on his lips, feeling it getting wider as Bokuto’s eyes begin to shine with tears. “I’m not broken enough for you. And you fucking hate that your protective bullshit isn’t working on Kuroo, either. He’s not like you think. He _likes_ to be broken. That's why he chose me over you. He tells me things, you know? Like his _actual_ name, and how he is with _Kenma_ , and how he wants me to _hurt_ him—”

Bokuto frantically shakes his head. The first tears slip down his cheeks. “You can’t hurt him,” he mutters, dull and scratchy like a broken record.

Kei almost feels bad. But he feels so much better when he squashes down on that regret and just keeps on going. “I’m not going to pretend we have any sort of relationship. I mean, we all know he’s not staying. He doesn’t care about any of us. He’ll run off with that Kenma guy as soon as he shows up. Maybe if we’re lucky, we can have whatever is left of Kuroo when Kenma is done with him and doesn’t want his old toy anymore.”

Kei doesn’t know how much of that he means. He knows that it’s something he’s worried about. It hurts to think about it. But the good thing is—it hurts Bokuto even more.

Bokuto looks _broken_. It’s even better than Kei imagined, a rush of glee and power that’s sweeping him away.

Tears won’t stop running down Bokuto’s cheeks. His eyes are back to normal. His breathing is just hitched whimpers and sobs. He’s shaking his head again. “He won’t,” he chokes out, but he doesn’t sound convinced himself. “Kuroo won’t. He’s—he’s not—I’m not letting—”

“Oh, but it’s not really up to you, is it?” Kei cuts in, smile sharp. “You go on and on about Kuroo being a person and not just a pet. I’m starting to think you don’t actually mean it. I think that you _do_ want him to be a pet. You’re just upset because he’s not _yours_.” Kei leans in, grin stretching awfully wide as he takes in Bokuto’s red, teary eyes. “But you know, maybe if you ask him nicely, he’ll let you fuck him, too. You can tell him everything you told me. He’ll probably even _like_ it, hearing what you think of him. That he’s nothing but a dumb little whore who needs attention so badly, he’s even willing to fuck me and Kenma to get it. Even if we treat him like a pet and insult him and beat him bruised for not acting like the _filthy animal_ he is—”

Kei is cut off because he suddenly can’t breathe anymore. He’s lifted up, Bokuto’s grip on him so tight that Kei’s collar is cutting his air off and his lungs can’t fill.

“Stop that or I’m going to fucking end you,” Bokuto hisses. That dangerous electric spark in his eyes is back. He looks like he means it. The change in his mood is so sudden that Kei’s head is spinning with it.

Bokuto doesn’t even need two hands to hold him up, he realizes belatedly. He can see the other one now, pulling back—

“Are you guys alright, something smells like it’s—burning—” Kuroo trails off as he steps around the corner and sees them.

Bokuto drops Kei instantly.

He doesn’t look as terrifying as he just did. More like a scared child.

Kei can’t really care because he’s too busy hacking and coughing, doubling over to ease the strain on his chest. When he manages to look up, eyes teary, Kuroo is white as a sheet. With his lips wobbling and ears quivering, he looks like he’s going to cry, just like Bokuto.

“Bo, Tsukki, what’s—” He doesn’t finish the question. Just glances between them with wide eyes. He looks scared.

Bokuto won’t look back at him, staring intently at the ground as he wipes away his tears.

Kei forces himself to act like a reasonable human being and take the pan with his burned vegetables off the stove. He doesn’t answer.

He has fucked up. He knows that.

It wasn’t fair to tear into Bokuto’s insecurities like that, just because Kei is feeling so pissed at him. And Kuroo won’t like that, either.

It’s one thing to whisper mean things into Kuroo’s ear when they’re fucking. It’s a different thing entirely to use it to hurt Bokuto. Really hurt him.

It’s what Bokuto was afraid Kei was doing to Kuroo all this time. In a way, he got what he wanted now, right?

Kei almost wants to laugh. In that hysterical way, when there’s no reason to it at all.

He got so angry when he thought Bokuto would take Kuroo away from him. Now Kuroo is going to leave all on his own. Kei has no one to blame for that but himself. He’s the one who snapped and was a complete asshole.

Still no one has answered Kuroo. He’s looking helplessly between Bokuto and Kei.

Kei isn’t very brave when it’s not about being mean to someone until they cry. He turns off the stove.

“I’m going to my room,” he says tonelessly, and walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't be angry at me, but i really love that last scene  
> i live for tsukki being an asshole and having to sort out the consquences later, okay


	9. Genuine Love And Actual Communication Only Thing Holding Area Relationship Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very excited to upload this chapter after the dramatic last one was so well liked!  
> i hope you enjoy this one as well and thanks for reading :>

Koutarou can barely hold himself back from yelling.

He wants to. He wants to scream until he feels better, if he can ever feel better again. If things don’t stay awful und terrible forever.

But he can’t scream, because then Tsukki and Kuroo would hear him, and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

He doesn’t want to scream at Keiji, either.

So he tries. He really does. He stays quiet, and he takes deep breaths, in and out, and he counts in his head until the burning beneath his skin goes away just a little. And he waits, and he bides his time, until it’s so late that he thinks Tsukki and Kuroo are asleep by now.

Keiji is not asleep yet. He’s lying in bed and looking tired, but he’s still waiting for Koutarou to share why he’s as upset as he is. Koutarou loves him so damn much.

He can’t believe—what Tsukki said about them, about _him_ —he would never _want_ Keiji to be _broken_ —

“What’s wrong, Kou?” Keiji asks, quiet and soft. His voice sounds a little rough. He looks sad.

Koutarou makes himself sit down on the bed so he can look at Keiji. Takes another deep breath. In, out. Firmly, he tells himself not to get loud.

“Tsukki said some really mean things,” he presses out then, just as quiet as Keiji had been. “And I’m—I’m scared he’s right about some of them. And I got really angry and I— _fuck_ , Keiji, I almost punched him, I couldn’t even _think_ anymore—”

Keiji makes a small, comforting noise and puts a hand on Koutarou’s knee. The soft touch has Koutarou breathing easier. “What did he say?”

“He said—” Koutarou’s throat goes tight. It feels awful, telling Keiji about this. Like that somehow makes it more real. Like that makes it true. His words come out barely above a whisper, voice scratchy. “He said I only like you because I like protecting broken things.”

Keiji is silent. A long time passes that way. But he doesn’t pull his hand away from Koutarou’s knee, so Koutarou doesn’t panic. He still breathes, and counts, and tries to make it through that terrible feeling eating him up from the inside.

“Do you think he was right?” Keiji asks then, his expression open enough that Koutarou somehow keeps breathing still.

“I don’t,” he protests, but he doesn’t feel as convinced about it as he would like. “I mean—I would protect you from anything, Keiji! Anything at all! But the last thing I want is for you to be broken. If I could make it so that you had never been hurt at all, I would!”

A soft little smile builds on Keiji’s lips. But somehow, his expression still looks very sad. “There you have your answer then,” he says.

Koutarou reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I’m—” he struggles. “He said more things, too. That Kuroo likes him better, and—and—Keiji, what if he does? They’re spending so much time together now, and Tsukki mentioned things Kuroo never talks to us about, like having a different name. And Tsukki said that he—that he’s _awful_ to Kuroo, that he insults him and makes him cry and do things he doesn’t _want_ and that he _hits_ him—” Koutarou’s voice breaks.

His eyes are burning. His heart is beating too hard and too fast. He can hear it thumping in his ears. His vision is a little blurry, but when he looks at Keiji, Keiji seems even sadder than before. Koutarou wants to wonder about it, but it’s hard when he can’t seem to breathe right anymore.

“And he said—” Words somehow bubble out, because they’re all trapped inside Koutarou’s head otherwise, and it’s driving him mad, “he said Kuroo would go back to this Kenma asshole because we’re not mean enough to him, and that I only care because I’m _jealous_ —”

Deep breaths. In, out.

Koutarou swallows a few times, frustrated when it does nothing against the clump of emotion sitting tight in his throat.

Keiji, somehow, is very pale. His brows furrow together all weirdly, and for the first time in very long, Koutarou has trouble reading him.

“But that’s what this is, isn’t it?” Keiji asks, voice raw and hurt.

Koutarou doesn’t breathe anymore.

He doesn’t—doesn’t understand—

“Keiji?” he asks, unsure.

Maybe this is a bad dream. Koutarou must be having a nightmare. That’s why Tsukki said all those horrible things to him and why Keiji is giving him that heartbroken look right now. That’s why Keiji is agreeing with Tsukki, instead of assuring Koutarou that it’s all wrong.

Right?

But Koutarou isn’t waking up. He’s just sitting there and feeling his cheeks getting wet, and then the most terrible thing of the whole day happens. Keiji pulls his hand away.

“I wanted to wait for you to bring it up,” Keiji says, and he sounds as hurt as Koutarou feels, but Koutarou doesn’t understand. They should support each other when they’re both hurt, so why is Keiji pulling back? “And I tried, Kou, I really did, but—don’t lie to me about it.”

Koutarou blinks through his tears, helplessly. “I—what? Keiji, what are you talking about?”

Keiji’s face pulls together into something angry, but he also looks close to tears. “I know you’re in love with Kuroo,” he says.

Koutarou’s world stops. He feels like he just had the ground ripped out from beneath his feet.

Koutarou loves Keiji more than anything. Why would Keiji ever think—?

“It’s so obvious, and I tried not to—to—but I—” Keiji is crying now, sobbing. He looks so awful, face red and splotchy and Koutarou wants to hold him so badly, but he doesn’t think Keiji will _let_ him. “Koutarou, you love him so much, and I can’t just ignore it. You spend all this time with him and you get so upset whenever Tsukishima even looks his way and you—your _feathers_ came in—”

“They’re just early,” Koutarou hears himself say, toneless and numb. This all doesn’t make sense. Yes, Koutarou likes Kuroo, really fucking much, but how could Keiji ever think—”Keiji, you’re _everything_ to me!”

“I’m just holding you back,” Keiji cries out, pushing himself up onto his knees, shoulders shaking. “You need someone who’s as loud and energetic and _happy_ as you are, and it’s not me—Kou, it’s _never_ going to be me—” Keiji breaks off with a sob. “I just—I just want you to be happy. Just—ask Kuroo out, or whatever you want to do, just don’t drag me along to have to see it—”

“Keiji—” Koutarou breathes, voice hitching. He still doesn’t understand. This isn’t—Keiji has never said anything like that before. It sounds—it almost sounds like—“Are you breaking up with me?”

Keiji whimpers, pressing a fist to his mouth and curling up. “I—I don’t want to have to wait until you do it,” he rasps out, not even looking at Koutarou.

Pressure builds and rises in Koutarou’s chest.

That is—that’s not a ‘No’. Keiji hasn’t said ‘No’.

Koutarou’s heart cracks open. Breaks. Shatters its shards all over the place, digging painfully into him from the inside out.

And somehow, impossibly, because this is the most horrible day of Koutarou’s life, something worse rises. Anger burns at the back of his throat as he growls out, “What the fuck, Keiji?”

Keiji is so shocked, eyes flying wide open as he rears back, that he even stops shaking.

Koutarou can’t make himself stop. “You always go on about talking about our feelings, and now you break up with me? Just like that? Without even asking me what I want or how I feel? Just because my feathers are early, you suddenly think I’ll leave you? Do you think I care so little about you? Did the last few years just not _matter_ to you?”

Those are mean things to say. Koutarou can see Keiji flinch from them.

Why is he saying something mean to Keiji? He shouldn’t be.

“Kou, I’m—I only want you to find someone better—” Keiji hiccups, so broken and sad when there’s no good reason, because he shouldn’t be breaking up with Koutarou at all. He shouldn’t be leaving.

“I don’t want anyone _better_!” Koutarou calls out, wanting to reach out for Keiji but unable to make himself move. “I only want you! Don’t just—don’t just _decide_ for me who I want to spend my life with!”

“But you’d be happier!” Keiji shouts back, louder and fiercer than Koutarou has ever heard him, except for the one time Keiji yelled at his family.

Koutarou doesn’t want Keiji to have to yell at him the way he did back then.

“You’d be—” Keiji’s voice breaks, and goes quiet, and raw, and pained. “You should be happy, Kou. I don’t know how to make you happy.”

“You make me happy by not breaking up with me out of the blue!” Koutarou calls. “Fucking hell, Keiji!”

“But you should be—you have to be happy, Kou—” Keiji sobs out, helplessly, and this time Koutarou doesn’t hold himself back anymore.

He practically falls forward, wobbling on their bed, and pulls Keiji against his chest in the tightest hug he can manage. “You stupid idiot, Keiji,” he rasps out, voice as wet as his face. “You’re always so smart. Why do you not know how much I love you? Why can’t you see that I’m happiest when I’m with you?”

Keiji trembles in his arms like a leaf in a storm. He sobs and he shakes and his thin arms are squeezing the life out of Koutarou as he cries. “I don’t—Kou, I’m—I don’t know how—”

“You already make me happy, Keiji. So, _so happy_ , every day, and I love you so much. I will tell you. I will be so loud about it, I will tell you every day how important you are to me until you can believe it. I’m sticking with you, no matter what. I’ll always be here. As long as you’ll have me,” Koutarou mutters into Keiji’s ear, into his soft hair. He rubs circles into Keiji’s heaving back.

“I don’t want to hold you back, Kou. I don’t want you to be the one who always has to pull me along,” Keiji heaves out, and it sounds a lot like something he said before. Koutarou wonders just how deep into his head he got this. That he isn’t enough. That he can’t make Koutarou happy, or that he’s wrong somehow. As if it wasn’t Koutarou who stumbled into Keiji’s life and ripped it to shreds.

He thought that they worked through this. How long has Keiji been thinking this way again? How long has Koutarou missed this?

He’s a terrible boyfriend.

Maybe Tsukki was right—at least about Koutarou focusing too much on Kuroo. He should have noticed this building up inside of Keiji. He should have seen the signs. He should have been there for Keiji. He let him down.

“You’re not holding me back,” Koutarou mutters, not allowing even an ounce of doubt into his voice. “Keiji, you make me so much better. I am so grateful for every single day I get to spend with you. I’m never leaving you. You hear me? Never.”

He gently rocks Keiji in his arms, and he keeps murmuring promises. That he loves Keiji. That he’ll stay. That he won’t ever leave Keiji alone, no matter what. That Keiji is more than good enough for him, Keiji is fucking perfect.

Maybe one day, it will actually be enough to stick in Keiji’s brain. Koutarou can only hope so. He wonders if he should suggest to Keiji that they call up his therapist again, in case any other old doubts have been festering in him, ripping open wounds from the past.

At some point, Keiji begins to calm down. He stops shaking in Koutarou’s arms, and his breathing gets steadier, and the wet spot on Koutarou’s shoulder doesn’t grow larger anymore.

“Koutarou,” Keiji mumbles quietly. He’s burying his face against Koutarou’s shoulder, holding on too tight for Koutarou to get enough distance to look at him. They haven’t completely made it through this yet. “Can we—can we talk about Kuroo, though?”

Koutarou tenses without meaning to. “Keiji, I’m not going to leave you for someone else,” he hurries to insist.

Keiji shakes his head, just a little. A broken, little chuckle leaves him. “Okay, yeah. But—do you like him? Do you want to—do things with him?”

If Keiji can’t even say what exactly ‘things’ are, he still has to be insecure as hell about this. Raw and hurting. Koutarou really doesn’t want to make him feel any worse.

He also can’t lie to Keiji.

“I—honestly? I don’t know. I haven’t thought about what I feel for him. But it’s—it’s nothing like I feel for you, Keiji.”

Keiji makes a small sound. He doesn’t sound happy. “That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking—if we’re staying together, do you want Kuroo, too?”

Koutarou’s chest goes tight and hot. Instantly. Like a flare. “I—I don’t know. Do you mean like we invite Tsukki sometimes?”

Keiji squirms slightly in his arms. Koutarou’s shirt pulls tight as his hold on it gets firmer. “Maybe. Maybe differently. I just—I want you to have everything, Kou.”

“I don’t want things that make you think I don’t love you anymore,” Koutarou huffs, a little annoyed.

Keiji muffles another raspy little chuckle into his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Just—I just want you to know. That. If you really want to—do something. With Kuroo. It’s—it can, maybe. Be alright with me. Just, if you talk to me about it first.”

“Keiji,” Koutarou says, seriously. He nudges Keiji, until Keiji will finally look him in the eyes.

Keiji looks like he’s heading off to war, eyes rimmed red and lips pursed into a narrow line, expression set like he’ll fight whatever he has to but also isn’t sure if he’ll see the other end.

Koutarou presses a kiss to his lips. Then leans his forehead to Keiji’s, not allowing him to look anywhere else. “Keiji, I really appreciate what you’re doing here, and I love you very much for trying. But I’m not doing _anything_ with Kuroo while you’re this scared I’ll leave you for him. Alright?”

Keiji blinks a few times. He probably doesn’t like it that Koutarou is leaning in so close. They’re both going a little cross-eyed, it’s actually maybe too close like this—

“Alright,” Keiji murmurs, expression finally smoothing out, his shoulders going limp beneath Koutarou’s hands.

Koutarou squeezes him gently. “I love you so much, Keiji. I will tell you a thousand times. Until you can believe it.”

“I—love you, too, Kou,” Keiji rasps out. He leans forward a little bit.

Koutarou meets him in the middle for a kiss.

* * *

They have been fighting again.

Tetsurou heard them, even from Kei’s room. They were shouting. Tetsurou has never heard Akaashi shout before.

Kei was fighting with Bokuto, too. He won’t look at Tetsurou now. He’s lying next to him, stiff as a corpse, refusing to touch Tetsurou or even turn his way.

Everyone is fighting over him. Tetsurou doesn’t understand why.

Is he doing something wrong?

It has to be his fault, somehow. Everything was so peaceful in the first two weeks, and now that Tetsurou is not a cat anymore, now that he’s a person and talking and acting on his own, everyone is falling apart.

He’s always reaching for things that aren’t his to take. And this time, when he took something precious and important, he broke it. That has to be it. That has to be why.

He didn’t mean to do this to them. Akaashi and Bokuto and Kei, they are so good. Tetsurou never meant to rip them apart by coming here.

Maybe he should just leave. It’s only five more days until his completely arbitrary deadline—one month after Kenma reached out to him and told him to hide—and there is no use in staying here any longer if he only causes arguments between everyone.

The only reason he’s reluctant to leave is because he’s still a little unwilling to go against Kenma’s orders. Kenma said to hide. Kenma said to not come looking.

Kenma usually knows what he’s doing. Kenma would call for Tetsurou if he needed help. If Kenma really wasn’t alright, Tetsurou would feel it in their bond.

It has become his mantra over the past few weeks. But it’s losing its power.

Kenma could be in danger. Tetsurou has to find out what is keeping him away so long.

Really, he should be ecstatic to have a reason to search for him even sooner.

He’s—maybe not as eager to leave this place as he should be. He has come to care about Bokuto and Akaashi and Kei, and Tetsurou—

He doesn’t want to leave them. They may only be fondly remembered acquaintances, but they’re _really good_ acquaintances.

He hasn’t even told them about his plan, yet.

A part of him wants to stay. He wants things to go back to how they were. He wants to read books with Akaashi and nap together. He wants to play around with Bokuto whether it’s as a cat or as someone mostly human. He wants to banter with Kei and spend quiet evenings together. He wants to be held and petted and cuddled by them. All of them.

But no one is doing that anymore. Everyone is just angry at each other.

Even if they weren’t, Tetsurou shouldn’t get too close to them. He has to keep his distance, just like he’s keeping it from everyone else. He never got too close to Daichi and Suga, either, despite how often he ended up in bed with them.

But not getting too attached was never as difficult with Daichi and Suga as it is now.

Why can’t he bring himself to let go?

He should.

It has to be this way. With what he is hiding, with that awful magic brimming inside of him, he can’t impose himself on other people. He’d only put them in danger. The only one allowed close Kenma, and that’s only because Tetsurou is too damn _weak_ to be all alone as he should be.

Bokuto and Kei and Akaashi, they all deserve so much better than him. Than a demon. Than the fights he’s causing.

Really, Tetsurou should just leave.

There’s the perfect opportunity the next day, when everyone has left for work and uni. No one is there to stop him.

Tetsurou can just write a note, explaining that he has to go look for Kenma. Things were really great with them, maybe they can hang out together some day, it’s been real, have a nice life, bye.

But Tetsurou doesn’t write a note.

And he doesn’t leave.

* * *

When Keiji comes home, Kuroo is sitting on the couch, looking the perfect picture of misery. He’s curled up with his tail wrapped around himself, ears drooping down, and a mug of tea in front of him. It says ‘Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’. The ‘until I’ve had my coffee’ part is crossed out. Koutarou got that mug for Tsukishima a while ago. Keiji has seen Tsukishima drinking from it a lot.

“I’m back,” Keiji announces.

Kuroo acknowledges him with a nod but nothing else. He’s grimly staring off into the distance, likely not even paying attention to the playing TV. The local news is on, reporting a recent surge of demon attacks in the city. For a moment, Keiji is reminded of a time when things like that were destined to be his future.

Wielding magic. Protecting people. Defeating dark creatures like demons.

But he’s not that anymore. Never really was.

He had to learn a lot about living with himself without it. Without the path that he was always told he would go down. Without his family. It has been hard, but he did it.

Only lately, he hasn’t been keeping it up well. Koutarou was right about that. After all the work Keiji put into getting better, talking more about his problems and what he’s feeling and then finding solutions, he started bottling things up again. Feeling bad about himself. Assuming the worst as soon as something goes wrong. Like thinking that Koutarou will leave him.

Koutarou promised he wouldn’t leave.

Keiji wishes he could believe that with the same intensity with which Kuroo believes that his Kenma will be back.

Believing doesn’t happen on its own. It’s something he needs to work towards. That’s what his therapist always said.

Keiji will try.

He’s done enough brooding. It’s time to bring his good habits back. Like talking about things that make all of them miserable, and then working them out.

Kuroo looks very miserable.

Keiji puts his things away and makes his way to the couch. He sits down a respectful distance away from Kuroo. He isn’t sure where they stand right now.

Once he started believing that Koutarou would leave him for Kuroo, a part of Keiji began resenting him. But he knows it’s not really Kuroo’s fault. And now Keiji feels guilty. Even though he tried not to let it show, he feels like there is a distance between them now that wasn’t there before.

“We need to talk,” he states into the silence of their apartment. Nervousness sits tight in his throat, but he makes an effort to ignore it. He wishes he had gotten himself some tea, too. It would keep his hands busy and he wouldn’t be picking at his knitted sweater the way he is now.

Kuroo’s ears flick up for just a second, before they fold back and down. He’s not looking at Keiji, eyes set on a blank space at their wall. “Is this going to be you politely telling me that I overstayed my welcome and should leave?” he asks, voice quiet and flat.

Keiji startles forward, towards him. “What? No.”

He doesn’t even know how Kuroo came to that conclusion. None of them mind Kuroo being here. Koutarou and Tsukishima are both very fond of him.

Keiji unhappily worries his lower lip with his teeth as the thought occurs to him that if anything, _he_ was the one giving Kuroo the impression that he isn’t wanted here.

“You can stay for as long as you’d like,” he murmurs, quiet and honest.

To Keiji’s surprise, Kuroo looks even unhappier with that answer than he did before. His lips purse into a thin, tight line. He seems to be thinking on something, so Keiji waits.

“You’re angry,” Kuroo presses out eventually, brows drawn down, the tip of his tail flicking. “You’re very quiet when we spend time together. Bo w—Bokuto won’t look at me anymore. Tsukki avoids me.”

“That’s why you think that we’re—that I’m angry with you?” Keiji asks, because he wants to be sure and he isn’t right now. Kuroo seems to have hidden away a whole world of emotion inside of him, one that Keiji only now realizes exists.

“I’m good at reading people. Kenma doesn’t talk a lot,” Kuroo chuckles, and it cracks so badly that it sounds more like a sob.

Keiji’s chest aches, hearing him like that. A lump is building in his throat. He swallows, fingers pressing into soft fabric that gives easily. “I’m sorry we gave you that impression,” he says earnestly. “We’re not angry at you, Kuroo. I’m not.”

Again, Kuroo looks even more upset over his statement. His knuckles are paling and the tip of his tail angrily swishes back and forth. “You guys keep fighting over me!” he calls out, voice raspy. He is finally looking at Keiji now. His eyes are reddened and shining dangerously in the light, threatening tears.

“We do,” Keiji admits, quiet and hoarse. “We did. But that’s not your fault.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Kuroo hisses, looking angry and scared and sad all at once. “You wouldn’t be fighting if I wasn’t here.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault,” Keiji insists. He slowly reaches out. Kuroo doesn’t pull away, and so Keiji places his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’ll admit that we—fought. Things have changed with you around. And we haven’t been talking about them the way we should. But we are better now, Ko—” Keiji closes his eyes and firmly tells himself not to flinch. He opens them and goes on, “Bokuto and I. We talked. And we would like you to stay.”

Kuroo’s eyes skitter back to the wall. He draws away from Keiji’s touch. “I’m not staying anyway,” he murmurs. “I’m getting worried for Kenma. I’m going to leave and look for him in a few days.”

“Oh,” Keiji says.

His chest, suddenly, is much colder than it was before. There’s hot pressure building behind his eyes.

He didn’t expect this.

Why didn’t he expect this? Of course as a familiar, Kuroo would want to get back to his partner. It’s miracle enough that he stayed with them for as long as he did.

Keiji shouldn’t feel as torn up about this as he does. He tries to swallow it down.

At least Kuroo hasn’t noticed, with the way he’s staring at their wall. “You guys were really nice to me. You didn’t have to be. Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Keiji hears himself say. Something is strangling him from the inside. He blinks a few times, almost angry at himself. He draws up his shoulders and sinks into his sweater like it’s a shell. “I’ll miss you.”

Kuroo whips around to him, ears perked high. His expression is—strange. Brows furrowed and mouth open like he wants to protest. Eyes wide like this is a shock to him, and shining like he’s about to cry. His lip wobbles and his ears are shaking slightly, and Keiji wonders if both those things mean the same. “I—” Kuroo chokes out, “I’ll miss you, too, Akaashi.”

Keiji doesn’t know what to say. He usually knows with Koutarou and Tsukishima, but Kuroo is too new to him still. Especially an open, vulnerable Kuroo. He needs a moment to think.

“I hope you find your partner,” he murmurs then, quietly. The lump in his throat is thick and distracting, almost seems to get bigger with every word. But Keiji wants Kuroo to know that he _means_ this. “I know it hurts being apart.”

Kuroo blinks a few times. His teary eyes get very sharp when they look at Keiji again. “Akaashi?”

Ah.

Now he’s given away too much.

Keiji is both regretful and oddly relieved at the same time. He’s been thinking about this ever since they first suspected Kuroo of being a familiar, and now it’s finally being brought up. Kuroo is observant, so maybe a part of Keiji was even hoping for him to figure things out.

“I—I almost had a familiar, once,” Keiji croaks out, barely above a whisper. His voice almost fails him. The emptiness inside of him _hurts_ now, and Keiji can’t resist the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He needs to press his face against his knees and _breathe_ so he won’t start crying.

When he manages to look at Kuroo again, Kuroo’s expression is full of surprise and pain. “Almost?” he asks, wary and quiet.

“A dove,” Keiji murmurs, still looking at Kuroo even as the first tears roll down his cheeks. It’s not the answer to Kuroo’s question, Keiji knows, but right now it’s all—

Remembering her hurts _so much_.

“I named her Airi,” he goes on, more sobbing than talking. Kuroo has gone very still. “She was—I was—we connected, but I told my parents about Bokuto before we bonded, and they didn’t—they didn’t—”

He can’t get it out.

He’s talked about this before, to Koutarou and to his therapist, but now the words just won’t come. Not with Kuroo looking at him like _that_ , so full of worry and pain and sympathy.

Kuroo is a familiar. His partner is gone.

Out of everyone, Kuroo is the only one who really knows this sort of pain, and somehow talking to him about it makes the loss feel so much more _real_. Painful and overwhelming and devastating. Like Keiji has lost an important piece of himself, one that he’ll never get back. A wound that will never heal.

Kuroo slowly leans closer when it becomes obvious that Keiji can’t make himself say it.

That she’s gone. He’ll never see her again.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo says softly, even though his own voice is choked up and he has to wipe at his eyes. “Breathe, ‘Kaashi, slowly.”

Keiji tries and feels like he’s drowning.

Kuroo holds out one hand then, a silent offer of comfort, and Keiji abandons clutching at his own arms in favor of grasping it in both hands. It’s warm and a little wet from the tears Kuroo just wiped away. Keiji squeezes it, maybe too tight. He whimpers.

Kuroo’s other hand settles on his back, drawing Keiji in to rest against his chest. Keiji buries his wet face and his too-quick gasps against Kuroo’s shoulder and stays there. Kuroo’s hand rubs circles into his back, his other one crushed between them. Keiji is clutching it desperately, as if Kuroo might disappear on him if he is foolish enough to let go.

He can hear Kuroo’s heartbeat this close. A slow and even rhythm.

Keiji tries to match his breathing to it. He didn’t come here to break down again.

After a while, it helps. His lungs fill with air, and his own heartbeat slows. He can keep breathing even when he stops focusing on it.

He lets go of Kuroo’s hand with one of his own and wipes at his messy face. Kuroo’s shirt is wet. It still doesn’t look nearly as gross as Keiji feels.

He’s almost glad that he cried so much in Koutarou’s arms last night. It feels like he’s been mostly empty of emotion already, and it allowed him to run out sooner this time. He’s calming down again, and breathing, and thinking, in a way he usually can’t so soon after remembering his lost familiar.

He swallows. Rubs at his face again, a bit harsher. He knows he always ends up with terribly blotchy skin after crying like this, and he feels pathetic showing it to Kuroo. Despite that, he pulls back far enough that they can look at each other. It doesn’t feel like a real conversation otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Keiji murmurs with a terribly croaky voice.

“What for?” Kuroo asks, blinking his golden eyes and looking genuinely confused.

Keiji feels his brows draw together in a frown before he makes an effort to smooth out his face. “I wasn’t trying to make this about me. You still—”

Unexpectedly, his voice cracks and fails him.

Kuroo’s expression is open and curious, and Keiji needs another moment to breathe through the new wave of _loss_ welling up in his chest.

Airi is gone. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing that will bring her back. Keiji will have to live with that forever. But—

For one terrible, selfish moment, Keiji wishes that Kuroo won’t find his Kenma.

Then Keiji and Kuroo would both be missing the other half of their familiar bond. They would both be broken in the same way, and Kuroo would _truly_ understand him, and maybe they could stay together, try to make each other whole—

Keiji cuts himself off with a sharp breath. He curls his free hand into a fist, tight enough that his nails dig painfully into his palm.

It doesn’t work that way. Having Kuroo in his life won’t replace Airi, and it won’t make losing her any less painful. It won’t ease the betrayal Keiji still feels over his parents keeping her from him.

It’s not what Keiji _wants_ from Kuroo, either. He’s not looking for a familiar to stand at his side, not anymore. Not in Kuroo. Kuroo is something else to him.

And most importantly, wishing for something like that is cruel and selfish. Kuroo shouldn’t have to feel that kind of pain. Keiji almost broke under it, and he didn’t even have a full bond. It would be a terrible thing if this were to happen to Kuroo. Keiji doesn’t want him to get hurt that way.

“I’ll never get her back, but you still have a chance to find your partner. I really hope you do,” Keiji murmurs, finishing what he wanted to say earlier. His chest feels much lighter once the words are out.

Kuroo’s answering smile is brittle. His eyes are shining with tears, but he still looks happy. “Thank you, Akaashi,” he hums. With the way Keiji’s shoulder is still leaning against his chest, Keiji can feel the slight vibrations of him speaking. Or maybe he’s just imagining that.

Still, it makes his heart flutter softly in his chest.

Keiji chides himself for feeling so strongly about something so simple. But it’s—it feels familiar, somehow. It feels like they’re both in some sort of bubble, wrapped up in an intimacy that they shared only a few times before. Mostly when Keiji woke up in the middle of the night, feeling lost and alone, and even as a cat Kuroo still offered his comfort.

Now, right after fearing that Bokuto might leave—that Kuroo would take him _away_ —it’s almost overwhelming to get the same kind of soft affection from Kuroo again.

It’s nice.

Weird and unexpected, but _so nice_.

Keiji doesn’t make any move to disturb it, and neither does Kuroo, as moments slowly pass by. Keiji’s heart doesn’t stop beating as fast as it does, and he’s terribly aware of how he’s still holding Kuroo’s hand. Of how warm Kuroo’s skin is. Of how Kuroo is still holding his hand, too, and not pulling away.

Eventually, the stillness broken by Kuroo rubbing a hand over his face, ears twitching slightly. For just one moment, Kuroo’s soft expression is hidden from Keiji’s view. And then, when Kuroo’s face is visible again, most of the soft vulnerability is gone, a shaky grin taking its place.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay here for so long. It’s been a blast, living with three hot guys,” Kuroo drawls, tone decidedly more playful than before and— _off_.

Keiji blinks at him, thrown for a loop.

It's not—he didn’t expect to hear _that_. It really shatters the peaceful atmosphere from before, and Kuroo’s voice just sounded oddly tight, like—

Keiji isn’t sure, but something about it was _strange_ just now, and he’s—he _knows_ , actually, that Kuroo doesn’t mean it, not like this, that he’s not all playful and carefree about it. Keiji literally just came home to him moping and being sad about hearing them fight, _over him_ , Kuroo thought, so this is not—

Keiji is still processing, and before he arrives at any sort of useful conclusion, Kuroo cackles. It sounds clearer now, less hurt. His face looks better, too, less tense. His ears are bobbing a little when he leans in, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

“You’re so cute,” Kuroo says, without any warning, just like that.

Despite his confusion, despite his worries, despite the softness of before—heat surges up in Keiji’s chest like a bonfire, gathering accusingly in his cheeks. It throws all of his thoughts into disarray, almost violently.

He clears his throat, eyes darting away from Kuroo before they are drawn back to that sharp-toothed grin. “I, uh. Ah. I figured you were only interested in Tsukishima,” he mutters. It’s the first thing that comes to his mind now, and it’s—

It’s the truth, and it’s awfully revealing, with the implication that Keiji is—Keiji might—and _Koutarou_ —but in this moment, right now—even _Keiji himself_ —he might actually be— _interested_ —

And it’s terrible, because Kuroo is definitely smart enough to pick up on it, to read into it, and that’s—

It’s so much to think about, but Keiji is still distracted by—

What Kuroo just said pulled them out of the softness from before. Made it more playful and less serious. Flirtier and yet at the same time less intimate. And somehow that is—with the timing, and how tense Kuroo was when he did it—it almost seems like it was done on purpose. As if Kuroo derailed them specifically to avoid getting deeper into—into _what_? Where were they going?

There was something soft and fragile between them just now. The seed of something precious. A small spark. And now it’s—

It’s not _gone_ , not entirely. But Kuroo replaced it with something very _different_ —

Kuroo’s expression sharpens, then, making it bright and hungry as Kuroo seems to have become aware of Keiji’s implications, and it brings Keiji’s train of thought to a grinding halt.

Maybe it’s the way Kuroo’s ears swivel and seem to turn fully towards Keiji. Maybe it’s the way he grins, lop-sided and with his upper lip pulled up to reveal sharp canines. Maybe it’s the gleam in those dark golden eyes. Keiji’s heart is beating _so fast_.

“Really, Akaashi?” Kuroo drawls, leaning in closer. One of his hands moves on the couch, not touching Keiji’s leg but right in front of it. It draws all of Keiji’s focus there and makes thinking impossible. “You think I could look at you and not think you’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on?”

It’s very difficult to breathe, suddenly. It probably has something to do with the way Keiji’s heart is hammering in his chest. His face feels like it’s on fire. Disbelieving, he watches Kuroo’s tongue push out and slowly drag over his lips. Just seeing that has Keiji’s knees weak.

“I want you, Akaashi,” Kuroo purrs.

Keiji’s world stops.

And falls apart.

And puts itself back together in a very disorienting way.

Kuroo’s usual slit-like pupils are blown wide as he leans even closer. “I want Bo, and I want you. And I really—”

He stops.

Keiji would give a fortune for him to keep going. He _needs_ to know what Kuroo was going to say.

But Kuroo pulls back a little, almost looking sad now. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I really shouldn’t do this. I don’t want you and Bo to fight because of me anymore.”

Keiji can’t deal with this. His heart is beating a murderous staccato against his ribs, and his blood is rushing in his ears, and his mouth is dry because apparently it’s been open for a while now, like it’s just waiting for Kuroo to— _to_ —

Keiji never accepts advances from guys who are only after his looks. It’s not something he is against, morally, it’s just something that doesn’t interest him. He needs connection. Affection. Intimacy.

And all Kuroo just told him is that he thinks Keiji is pretty. That’s as shallow as it gets.

But Keiji can’t forget Kuroo reading with him. Cuddling with him. Cooking together and washing dishes and eyes meeting with a yelp when they both forgot the laundry in the washer. Pressing closely together late at night when Koutarou is fast asleep and Keiji’s own mind is working against him. Even though Kuroo was a cat for most of it. He was _there_. It’s all Keiji can think about now. A swarm of memories circling in his mind, every soft, gentle moment they ever shared between them.

Keiji can’t outrun it all.

“I want you, too,” he breathes out, startling himself with the admission.

Kuroo blinks, mouth falling open and eyes going wide. His cheeks are pink.

Keiji has never seen him blush before. It’s very cute.

“Oh,” Kuroo mutters, dumbfounded and a little shaky.

Keiji is overcome with the sudden urge to kiss that surprised expression right off his face. But he can’t make himself move.

His head is starting to spin with the possibilities that suddenly present themselves to him, all the ways this could go wrong between Koutarou and Keiji and Kuroo.

All the ways it could go _right_.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo murmurs his name, voice so low and raspy it’s almost back to a purr. He’s leaning in closer, slowly. Like he’s waiting to see how far Keiji will let him go.

Keiji stops him with a hand against his chest before their lips can touch.

Kuroo feels so warm. He doesn’t push against Keiji’s touch. Just stays perfectly still.

“We can't,” Keiji murmurs. “I haven't talked to Bokuto about this yet, and I—I really need to.”

Kuroo nods. His expression isn’t upset, but Keiji can see his ears drooping slightly. “Yes. Of course. Can I kiss you somewhere else?”

Keiji swallows at the suggestion. He wonders how upset Bokuto would be over him doing this, being here with Kuroo, just after Keiji told him nothing could happen without them talking.

But those were all Keiji’s insecurities. Bokuto has never once talked about Keiji and Kuroo.

Probably because it was never a possibility mentioned. Keiji was far too jealous and afraid to even entertain the thought. Today, after Koutarou’s assurances, this has rolled over him like wave, swallowing him up and drowning him completely.

It’s both terrifying and elating. Keiji isn’t spontaneous. Isn’t reckless. He doesn’t just _do_ things without thinking. Hardly even understands the concept of it.

But right now, he does understand.

“Do it,” he breathes, excitement and want beating fiercely in his chest, like a drum.

Kuroo appears surprised by his boldness. And why wouldn’t he be? This is new. Keiji doesn’t even know himself. Things were different between Koutarou and him. Keiji was much more withdrawn back then, reserved and terribly scared of the possible consequences.

Now they’re past the fallout. Keiji took it too far. Suffered for it. And then he grew back.

And this time, there is no reason to be so scared.

When Kuroo leans in, Keiji moves closer as well. Soft lips press to his cheek. It's warm and gentle and innocent.

Keiji feels like he is on fire. Like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. Like he wants to scream from sheer excitement and joy.

There is not a single trace of fear. Of shame. Of guilt, for lying to his family.

It reminds Keiji a little bit of the first time he and Tsukishima kissed.

It’s wonderful.

Kuroo has a soft little smile on his face when he pulls back.

Keiji thinks he must be grinning like a complete and utter maniac.

“I’m not trying to break you and Bo apart,” Kuroo says quietly, almost somber despite his smile. Somehow, impossibly, Keiji finds that he believes him. Not just that Kuroo doesn’t want to do that, but also that it won’t happen.

Koutarou promised that he wouldn’t leave him.

“But if you ever feel like I’m intruding,” Kuroo keeps going, looking more serious than Keiji has ever seen him, “then please tell me.”

“I will,” Keiji assures him. In this impossible moment of utter madness, he doesn’t think he’ll ever have to.

Kuroo smiles again, pleased. Keiji makes himself unclench his fingers from his sweater and tugs at Kuroo’s shirt instead, pulling him up and towards their room.

“Come on. We can make the best of our time while we wait for Bokuto to come home.”

“Oya? Already taking me to your bed?” Kuroo asks with an overly exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows that has Keiji laughing.

Kuroo has been in their bed before, but he was a cat back then. Ever since the disastrous morning when he woke up more human-like and they all fought, he hasn’t been back.

It feels good to climb back on it now, together, with Kuroo’s warm, steady weight pressed to Keiji’s side.

Keiji grabs his most recent book and shoves it at Kuroo. “Here,” he says, shooting a severe look down at the cover, “read this and then agree with me that the story line makes no sense and that the author can’t actually write for shit.”

Kuroo bursts out snickering, but he takes the book from Keiji nevertheless. “I’ll get to it right away,” he promises.

Ten minutes later, he has fallen asleep, his head heavy on Keiji’s shoulder and cutting off circulation to his arm.

Keiji finds that he doesn’t mind, giddy happiness still bubbling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c  
> well what a development  
> you know i wrote this and yet i still don't know if i like how kuroo is acting


	10. Area Man Experiments With Bizarre New Courtship Behavior Called ‘Talking To Each Other’

Koutarou isn’t sure what he’s feeling.

He supposes he’s upset. But beyond that? Anyone’s guess.

At another time, he might have talked to Keiji about it and they could have figured out what is bothering him, together. Keiji is very good at helping him when he can’t get his own emotions sorted out.

This time, though, that is kind of the root of the whole problem.

Keiji and Tsukki have already decided what he is feeling, apparently.

It makes Koutarou want to tear his hair out and scream.

It’s not fair of them to tell him what he’s feeling. It makes him feel dumb. It makes him feel confused. It makes him feel like he doesn’t even know himself, and like they have taken something away from him that wasn’t theirs to take.

Now he can’t even tell anymore if he’s having all these thoughts about Kuroo because he actually has feelings for him, or just because Tsukki and Keiji put the idea into his head. That’s the worst thing about it all.

It doesn’t feel like his choice anymore if he actually likes Kuroo. Keiji and Tsukki have already made it for him.

It sucks.

Ever since they both told him that he’s jealous over Tsukki and Kuroo being together, he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about Kuroo.

About Kuroo kneeling in front of Tsukki, no shirt covering his wide shoulders or the elegant arch of his spine or the marks Tsukki had left on his skin.

Koutarou remembers, begrudgingly, that a part of him thought it was hot as hell. _That_ makes him want to scream, too. It feels wrong, and he has tried really hard to block out that he was thinking that way. It was _wrong_ of Tsukki, in that situation, to take advantage of how vulnerable Kuroo was and to treat him badly just because he got off on it. And it’s wrong of Koutarou to get hot and bothered from seeing the aftermath.

A part of him thinks that Tsukki isn’t that kind of person. Koutarou and Keiji have known him for almost three years now, they have lived with him, they even trusted him enough to invite him into their bed a few times. Tsukki never seemed like someone who would take advantage of someone or hurt them against their will.

But then Tsukki went and did something bad anyway. Koutarou is sure of that. Tsukki even said so himself. And Koutarou wouldn’t be this angry over it if it wasn’t objectively wrong. Right?

Kuroo is still reeling from that Kenma asshole discarding him. He’s vulnerable. He’s hurt. He’s probably desperately trying not to be thrown away again, like some unwanted pet, and needs approval from someone. Tsukki can’t just swoop in there and dangle casual sex in front of Kuroo’s nose, without thinking of the consequences. Kuroo should have more time to learn how to be himself again and to heal. And Tsukki bulldozed right through that.

So yes, Koutarou has every right to be angry at Tsukki. For the way he treated Kuroo, and also for the terrible things he said to Koutarou last night. Some of those mean words weren’t even about Kuroo at all. No one gets to chalk up how upset Koutarou is to him just being _jealous_.

But now that he’s been thinking on it all day—he might have to admit that maybe—while he’s not _just_ jealous—that is _also_ something that he’s feeling.

He wants to treat Kuroo well. He wants to allow Kuroo his space. He can’t fucking believe that Tsukki just swooped in there and selfishly took what he wanted. It’s not what Kuroo needs right now.

But a part of Koutarou, a tiny, greedy, selfish part—

Wanted to do that, too.

Wanted to offer Kuroo that soft intimacy. The promise of warmth and affection. Gentle touches and hushed words of praise. Getting to know each other on a deeper level, and getting to see the most beautiful, breathless pleasure unfolding on Kuroo’s face. Seeing that soft, longing expression on Kuroo’s face when he’s talking about Koutarou or Keiji, and not when it’s about fucking _Kenma_.

But instead, Koutarou held back. Didn’t even entertain the thought.

And then Tsukki took it. That connection. That small part of Kuroo’s heart that was still free for new things. The part that’s not taken up by that asshole Kenma, who treated Kuroo like shit, but somehow Kuroo is still thinking the world of him.

Yes, fuck, Koutarou is jealous.

He wants that kind of adoration from Kuroo, if only so no one else will have it. So Koutarou can hold it close and protect it and make sure no one else can ever hurt Kuroo again.

He doesn’t want to see Kuroo cry anymore.

Never.

He wants to see that soft smile on Kuroo’s lips, or the wilder, crooked grin that appears when Kuroo is enjoying himself particularly much. He wants to see Kuroo relaxed, sleeping blissfully, and tired in the mornings. He wants to run his hands through messy, black hair and over soft, furry ears, and leave kisses all over that smooth expanse of skin until Kuroo is smiling all the time.

It stings that it’s not going to happen.

Tsukki got in the way of that and even if he hadn’t, Koutarou is still firmly determined to give Kuroo some space to heal and rediscover himself first.

That is, assuming that the Kenma asshole doesn’t swoop in to demand Kuroo back.

Koutarou’s only solace is that he’s beginning to doubt that will ever happen. It’s been almost a full month since Kuroo came to them. No one just leaves their friend or familiar without a word for that long and actually comes back. Right?

Koutarou kind of hopes so. He wants Kuroo to stay. And heal. And then, maybe—

Maybe.

He tries to get the idea out of his head when he finally gets home.

Tsukki’s mug is on the table. That is odd. Tsukki should still be at work right now. He often has to work very late on Fridays.

Maybe Kuroo or Keiji took it. Koutarou really hopes so. He doesn’t want to have to look at Tsukki yet. Not while those terrible words are still repeating in his head.

He shuffles over to his and Keiji’s room, a little worried that Kuroo is nowhere to be seen. It turns his stomach to think that Kuroo might be shacking up with Tsukki somewhere right about now.

As it turns out, however, that is not the case.

Instead, Koutarou is hit with the most marvelous sight when he steps into his and Keiji’s room.

Keiji is lying on their bed, head propped up against his pillow as he reads a book. Judging by the soft smile on his face, it’s one that he actually enjoys. Or maybe that smile is because Kuroo is right there next to him, snuggled up against his side, one arm curled around Keiji’s middle and his head resting on Keiji’s shoulder. He seems to be asleep, eyes closed, expression peaceful and relaxed. In the near-perfect silence, Koutarou can hear the quiet hum of his purr.

Warm fondness bubbles up in his chest, slow but strong and steady, filling him up to the brim and then overflowing from there. He can feel a smile stretch his lips wide, and his usual need to cheer loudly gets dampened into something softer.

He may not be entirely sure about what he wants from Kuroo and how he would want it. But this?

This is _perfect_.

This is something Koutarou wants to come home to every day for the rest of his life, and he’ll be the happiest man in the world.

Carefully, quietly, he puts down his bag and steps towards to the bed. He doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful quiet that is blanketing Keiji and Kuroo, but he wants to be closer. He wants to be a part of it.

Keiji has long since noticed him. Most likely, he was busy finishing the paragraph he was reading, but now he is done and putting the book aside. His shoulder shifts with the movement. Kuroo shifts as well, tail flicking and a small noise leaving him, disrupting his purr.

With one knee up on the bed, Koutarou thinks— _damn_. He was so close.

Luckily, neither Keiji nor Kuroo seem particularly keen on getting up. Kuroo turns toward him, one golden eye cracking open, and then he lazily curls his tail closer to himself, making room for Koutarou.

Koutarou is all too happy to slide into it.

Or—

He thinks he is.

But then he’s there, Kuroo’s back right in front of him, and Koutarou hesitates. In a silent question, he looks up at Keiji.

His boyfriend. His wonderful, kind, but infuriatingly insecure boyfriend, who thought that Koutarou would leave him for Kuroo.

Is this really something that Keiji is fine with? Or is he pushing himself into allowing it?

Maybe Keiji thinks that he needs to let Koutarou have this. Maybe he’s offering up time with Kuroo, thinking he has to do it just so Koutarou won’t leave him completely? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Keiji has ever come up with in a moment of emotional panic.

And he does look tense, now. Koutarou can see it in the press of his lips, the slight furrow between his brows. Something about this has Keiji on edge.

The last thing Koutarou would ever want to do is hurt Keiji.

He lies down on the bed, with an arm’s length of distance separating him and Kuroo.

“Wake up, Kuroo,” Keiji hums quietly, running his fingers over Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo grumbles something unintelligible. “It’s time to talk about our feelings some more.”

Kuroo groans, burying his face against Keiji’s shoulder. “What is it with you guys and talking.”

“My and Keiji’s therapists say that talking about your feelings is important,” Koutarou explains. He gets a sharp look from Keiji for it, and wilts a little, but he stands by it.

“We can’t all do what Keiji’s therapist says,” Kuroo whines, raising his head a little and running a hand through his hair. It ends up looking even messier than before.

“Yes, we do,” Koutarou says.

Keiji snickers. The sound makes Kuroo perk up a little more.

“Fine then,” Kuroo whines and pulls himself up into sitting. “Talk.”

Actually, Koutarou isn’t sure what they should be talking about. He gives Keiji a helpless look.

Keiji’s look back is very pointed, but Koutarou really doesn’t know what he wants. When he stays quiet, Keiji sighs. “Kuroo, I think you know that we sometimes—let Tsukishima spend the night here.”

Kuroo nods. Koutarou tries really hard not to wince at the mention of Tsukki. At the unbidden echo of hissed, sharp, cutting words.

“And I was thinking,” Keiji goes on quietly, and pauses. Licks his lips. Takes a breath deep enough that it raises up his shoulders and has them sinking again. “I would not be against—doing the same with you.”

Koutarou’s heart stops beating for a moment there. Blood is rushing in his ears and maybe that made him hear it wrong, but—

Really?

Koutarou was surprised enough when Keiji agreed to bring in Tsukki sometimes. He never dared to hope—Kuroo—especially after how scared Keiji was that Koutarou might leave—

Koutarou’s brain is in buffering mode. There are too many different thoughts at once. This seems too good to be true. Now he’s definitely worried that Keiji is pushing himself too far. This is rushed. Isn’t it too rushed? Having sex with both Keiji and Kuroo, at the same time— _fuck_ —what about Tsukki? Do they want Tsukki here, too? Tsukki was so mean last night. And Keiji was so scared—can Koutarou really do this? Isn’t this too selfish? What is Kuroo thinking about this? Isn’t he tied up with Tsukki, or that Kenma asshole—

“I’m in,” Kuroo breathes, and it brings Koutarou’s thoughts to a grinding halt. There’s a raspy quality to Kuroo’s voice, like he’s breathless already. He’s leaning forward, closer, something hungry shining in his eyes. His lips are stretched wide in that crooked grin of his, sharp canines on display and his pink tongue peeking out in between.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Koutarou wants to kiss that mouth.

Heavens help him, does he want to.

But then his eyes are unwittingly drawn back to Keiji, who looks too pale for his liking, too timid, too worried.

This is not the look of someone excited for a threesome. This is the look of someone who’s not entirely sure if this isn’t some big mistake. And Koutarou has his own worries to add to that.

“I’m—I definitely want to,” he croaks out, rubbing a hand over his too-hot face in an attempt to calm down. It doesn’t really help. “But. I’m—Are you sure you’re alright with this, Keiji? And Kuroo, are you sure it’s something you want? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything to be allowed to stay here, and I don’t—”

His voice leaves him.

 _“He likes to be broken,”_ Tsukki had hissed at him, with that gleeful, mean smirk twisting his face.

Koutarou wants Kuroo. But he doesn’t want—he can’t give him something like that.

What if Kuroo is just not interested in what Koutarou can give him?

“You alright?” Kuroo asks, startling Koutarou with how close he suddenly is. His hand is hovering over Koutarou’s knee. “You know I’m okay, right? I know you guys worry about me, and it’s very nice of you. I appreciate all you’re doing for me. Letting me stay here. But I’m not helpless. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. I can handle myself perfectly fine.”

Before he can think better of it, Koutarou mutters, “Tsukki says he hurts you when you have sex.”

The nervous thumping of his heart almost drowns out Keiji’s shocked little intake of air.

Kuroo blinks at him with wide eyes. “Oh. Uhm. Well, that’s a pretty general statement considering we only fucked twice. I’m. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t like it, but I—I get that it’s probably not something you guys are into, so we really don’t have to—” Kuroo trails off, looking more embarrassed than Koutarou has ever seen him. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, and his ears and tail keep twitching. He can’t seem to look Koutarou in the eyes.

It’s strange. Koutarou is torn between thinking it’s cute and thinking it’s hot and wanting to scream because does that mean that Kuroo really wants Tsukki to—

Koutarou doesn’t want Kuroo to get hurt. It’s something deep in his core. Deep enough that a simple thought like ‘Kuroo can take part in whatever kinks he wants’ can’t stop it.

“I don’t want to treat you badly,” Koutarou mumbles. It feels like he has to pull the words from his throat. It’s such a terrible divide, between wanting to keep Kuroo safe and wanting him to make his own choices. And it’s not even Koutarou’s place to say anything about it, really, but if they’re going to get closer now—“And I don’t want to treat you like you’re just a pet. I know that we thought that at first, but I—I don’t _ever_ want you to feel that way! You’re more than that!”

His throat feels a little tight, and he’s grateful when Keiji pulls him against his side, allowing Koutarou to sink into his warm touch.

Kuroo cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, looking very unsure. “I—uh. Thank you? It’s a nice sentiment, I guess. But you guys do know I’m—like, part cat. Right?”

“You have ears and a tail. You seem very much like a regular person aside from that,” Keiji points out, and Koutarou wants to hug him for taking over this very difficult conversation, so he does. He holds on as tightly as he knows Keiji still likes.

“I mean. I am? But I’m also—” Kuroo vaguely gestures in the air.

It looks to Koutarou like he’s having a hard time explaining whatever this is, and he wonders if Kuroo ever had to talk about this before. If anyone ever had the ‘you’re more than just a pet’ talk with him. It worries Koutarou that maybe this is the first time.

“I’m also a cat spirit. It’s not mutually exclusive, for me,” Kuroo tries, linking his fingers together. “I _did_ hate the cat kibble. But I like being petted or cuddling with you, or lying down on someone to take a nap. I miss that a little, to be honest—not that I don’t get why you stopped! It’s different when you have a grown man hanging all over you instead of a cat!”

Kuroo’s sudden nervousness does little to hide his drooping ears.

Koutarou purses his lips. It’s uncomfortable to think that his attempts at treating Kuroo better made Kuroo feel sad instead, because no one was being as affectionate with him as before.

“We could, uh. Maybe see about doing some of that again?” Koutarou offers, a bit taken aback when Kuroo’s ears perk up immediately.

“Oh. Yes. That would be nice,” Kuroo agrees, practically vibrating on the spot.

Keiji reaches out with one hand. Koutarou has to fight the urge to coo when Kuroo leans closer in turn, pushing his head up into it. Keiji’s nimble fingers run up his ears, rubbing small circles, and Kuroo’s purr vibrates through the room, golden eyes slipping half-lidded in bliss. “Mmmh, missed this,” he hums, words coming out a little slurred.

Koutarou is caught between wanting to pet him, too, and many, many days of denying himself that very thing, so Kuroo can know they don’t just see him as a cat. And thinking of that—

“Tsukki said you had another name,” Koutarou blurts out as soon as the thought comes to him.

Kuroo blinks at him a few times, slowly, like some sort of mystical, otherworldly being. “Mh, yes. It’s Tetsurou.” His soft, relaxed smile pulls into something sharper. Wilder. “You are both very welcome to scream it when I rock your world.”

Koutarou actually hears Keiji squeak behind him. A startled chuckle leaves him.

“About that,” Keiji mumbles, in that carefully neutral tone of voice that always has Koutarou a little worried for him. “Would it be alright with you if we—if Koutarou and I kept our first names just between us, and we stay Bokuto and Akaashi to you? I don’t mean to make it sound like I don’t want you here, or like I’m keeping something from you, but I—”

Koutarou turns around enough to see Keiji, and is surprised to find that Keiji is looking at both of them. He’s not just asking Kuroo if that’s alright, he also wants to know it from Koutarou.

As if Koutarou wouldn’t give Keiji _anything_ to assure him that Koutarou loves him and would never leave him.

“That’s okay with me,” he answers, and Kuroo nods easily below Keiji’s hand.

“No problem at all.”

Keiji’s shoulders slump so visibly with relief that he ends up almost draping himself over Koutarou. Koutarou presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You guys are adorable together,” Kuroo hums, leaning closer again. It might just be an unconscious move to keep his balance, but this time his hand does land on Koutarou’s knee, and Koutarou is _very_ aware of it. The touch feels as hot as a brand, and somehow all the heat from his knee rises up to his face. Kuroo’s smirk widens and gets even sharper. “Now that we’ve talked, do I get to kiss you guys?”

“What?” Koutarou squeaks out, shocked. “I—are we—are we talking about a _right now_ situation? I thought we were kind of—more— _later_ —”

“I’m not sure how far I want to go right now,” Keiji says, sounding much calmer and less embarrassingly out of his element than Koutarou.

Kuroo cocks his head to the side, pursing his lips. It’s a very alluring image that has the more impulsive side of Koutarou thinking that actually, maybe _right now_ is a great idea. Maybe he really does want to kiss Kuroo right now, and then kiss him again, and just not stop. That wish only gets worse when Kuroo smiles again, a weird cross between sexy and gentle that completely fries Koutarou’s brain.

“I’m always up for trying out new things and going from there,” he says, dark and smooth, and it’s doing things to Koutarou. “But if you guys want to wait, just tell me when you’re in the mood.”

Koutarou is busy processing, again, and severely regretting that he couldn’t sort out his thoughts and feelings earlier. It’s very overwhelming to think that he could be having sex with Keiji and Kuroo, _right now_ , mostly because it’s also incredibly tempting. His mouth is dry just thinking about it, and his feathers are getting so fluffed up that his shoulders itch horribly beneath his sweater.

“I think. I’d like to kiss you,” Keiji says. It throws Koutarou for another loop—between Keiji’s honestly curious eyes and Kuroo’s suddenly feral grin, his thoughts are doomed to crash and burn.

He didn’t even know that Keiji _wanted_ to kiss Kuroo. This never came up. Not at all. What the _fuck_. How did Koutarou miss _so much_?

But now that it’s sinking in, Koutarou realizes—it’s a _relief_ , really.

This all feels rushed. Like they’re going too fast. Running at full speed when they only just learned how to walk. Last night, Keiji was still falling apart over this. A part of Koutarou thinks that because of that alone, they should wait longer.

But—what he’s worried about is that Keiji is pushing himself too hard. That Keiji will be sad when he sees Kuroo and Koutarou together. That he’ll doubt Koutarou’s feelings again, doubt their relationship and himself.

If Keiji wants to kiss Kuroo himself, that’s something else _entirely_. If Keiji is participating, too, instead of sitting next to them and watching like an outsider—

Maybe this really can be okay.

Koutarou wants Keiji to have everything. He also wants Kuroo. If Keiji wants Kuroo, too, then that’s—

It’s so amazing that Koutarou can barely breathe from how hard his heart is beating.

He swallows, and scratches his shoulders, and then swallows again when he realizes that both Keiji’s and Kuroo’s eyes have fallen to him.

“You guys don’t need to look at me, I’m fine with—whatever you want to do together. Just don’t keep it from me,” he rasps out, short of breath.

“Oya? Someone wants to watch?” Kuroo purrs, waggling his brows.

Koutarou doesn’t know how, but Kuroo makes it sound so dirty and illicit that his face is on fire with the implications. His heart is beating a marathon inside his chest. He hardly dares to make a sound as Keiji leans over his shoulder, and Kuroo leans closer, too, and then—

A small gasp leaves Keiji, soft and surprised, when Kuroo’s lips meet his. His eyes fall closed, beautiful dark lashes fluttering over flushed cheeks, and slender fingers curl up into Kuroo’s wild hair. Kuroo is pressing closer, until he’s chest to chest with Koutarou, and Koutarou has to wonder if Kuroo can hear how loud and fast his heart is beating.

They’re so warm, both of them, and being stuck in the middle between them is somehow both exhilarating and torturous.

The kiss looks soft and innocent, and it’s still enough to send tingling heat down Koutarou’s spine, mouth hanging open in breathless wonder as he watches them. Kuroo’s mouth opens, flashing sharp teeth and a slip of his tongue, and when he moves back in Keiji’s mouth is open as well, allowing him inside.

It sounds wet and less innocent now. Keiji is panting and squirming. Koutarou almost forgets to breathe entirely, startled when one of Keiji’s hands nudges against his. He tangles their fingers together and squeezes. Keiji squeezes back.

And then Keiji _moans_. Low and needy.

Kuroo pulls back with a proud grin, licking his own lips which are a bit redder than before. Keiji’s expression is dazed, mouth still a little open, eyes half-closed.

Koutarou really wants to know what Kuroo did so well. He doesn’t get to ask.

He’s pulled forward, and then Kuroo’s lips are on his, warm and wet and soft and sending sparks dancing in Koutarou’s blood. Kuroo kisses with no shame, no abandon to be found, pressing and licking and nipping, one continuous stream of sensation, each one somehow better than the last. Koutarou’s blood is rushing in his ears, and he can’t breathe, and doesn’t want to if it means stopping. He lets his mouth drop open and Kuroo’s tongue is right there, licking inside so sweetly. It’s rough, like a cat’s, and even though it should be weird it somehow makes it better. Each lick is teasing and smooth, and somehow Kuroo finds every spot that makes Koutarou shiver.

Koutarou tries to give back, and it ends up wet and messy, his lips burning as he presses them against the edge of inhumanly sharp teeth, spit dripping between them. Koutarou thinks Keiji would hate kissing like this, all sticky and unfocused, but with Kuroo it’s great. It’s amazing. He never wants to stop.

He has to, eventually, when his lungs burn and his heart seems to be beating out of his chest and his feathers are so fluffed that his sweater must have risen a full inch above his shoulders.

Kuroo is grinning like the cat that got the cream, a content purr growing from his chest. “That was nice,” he hums, wiping some off the mess on his chin off on his sleeve. His eyes roam over them, burning a deep gold, and then they stop at Koutarou’s chest. “Oh? What’s that?”

Koutarou coughs, a little embarrassed. He’s trying to get his face dry, but there’s still so much heat prickling beneath his skin that he can’t tell how much it’s working.

“Want to show him, Kou?” Keiji asks, and his voice—fuck, his voice has Koutarou shivering from head to toe. It’s so rough and breathy, like Keiji is turned on, just from kissing and then watching Kuroo and Koutarou kiss. Koutarou musters him intently, not just the beautiful pink on his cheeks and how puffy his lips are, but also for signs of being uncomfortable.

Keiji thought that Koutarou would leave because his feathers came in early. Is he really okay with Koutarou showing them off to Kuroo?

Keiji has been surprisingly fine with everything so far, but that doesn’t necessarily mean—Koutarou knows him. Knows that sometimes things catch up with Keiji later, when it’s all over, when it’s the middle of the night and he’s alone. Koutarou _really_ doesn’t want that for Keiji this time.

But right now, Keiji seems to be perfectly relaxed. He’s looking calmly at Koutarou, smiling gently. His eyes are bright with excitement.

And. Well. A part of Koutarou really wants to show off to Kuroo. And Keiji _did_ suggest it. Keiji is not just going along with their ideas. He’s saying it like he wants this, too.

So. Maybe. Even though it still feels like they’re going very fast—it can be alright?

“Okay,” Koutarou agrees after another moment of thinking, hesitant and breathy. Carefully, he tugs at his sweater. Keiji has to help, because of course some of the stupid feathers got caught in the fabric again, and it takes a bit off awkward shuffling until Koutarou can finally slip it off and throw it aside. He turns a little then, unable to help his nervous grin when he angles his shoulders towards Kuroo.

It will take a few more days for his feathers to fully grow in. But most of his shoulders, from his neck down to his upper arm and sloping down to the jut of his shoulder blades, is covered in soft white feathers, interspersed with lighter and darker grays. They don’t actually form wings, and even the longest ones aren’t longer than Koutarou’s fingers. They usually stay lined against his skin, mostly, but right now with all the excitement they have poofed up, making him look a little bigger than he actually is.

Koutarou isn’t always sure what to think of them. He’ll never fly on them, and they’re hell in the shower. But Keiji likes them.

And judging by the fascinated glint in Kuroo’s eyes as he leans closer, Kuroo likes them, too. That’s good. Koutarou can appreciate them for that.

“Can I—touch?” Kuroo asks, glancing at him unsurely. Koutarou doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kuroo quite so bashful.

He nods, flooded by pride and happiness and something very warm and bubbly. “Yeah, sure.”

Kuroo runs one finger down the grain of his feathers almost reverently. “They’re soft,” he marvels with a smile. “Do you always have them?”

“Mostly during winter. So people don’t really see them, except Keiji and—” Koutarou breaks off and clears his throat. “Yeah. It’s because I’m a little tengu, like, wayyyy down the line. I can’t really do any cool magic stuff or anything.”

“You look good with them,” Kuroo hums, still running his fingers over the feathers with far more caution than necessary.

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Keiji huffs pointedly. It startles a laugh out of both Kuroo and Koutarou.

Koutarou smiles at Keiji, warm and happy. Maybe this can actually work. He really wants it to.

“You do,” he agrees, and gently pulls Keiji closer. Keiji meets him in a soft kiss. It’s far more innocent than how either of them kissed Kuroo. It’s nice. He never wants to stop kissing Keiji.

Except maybe to kiss Kuroo.

Or Tsukki. If Tsukki stops being mean, and apologizes.

That, Koutarou thinks, would actually be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Akaashi Keiji will get this fucking mess in order or so help him
> 
> sorry this one's kinda short! I had a plan for this chapter but then I rewrote a lot and it ended up way longer than planned. I kind of really like the rhythm of this fic with frequent and rather short chapters, so I decided to make two separate chapters out of it. for now just enjoy the happiness even if they're not all entirely on the same page :)


	11. Area Man Disgusted By Situation He Finds Himself In Entirely Due To His Own Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last chapter, a lot of you were wondering how Tsukishima would react to the other three getting closer. Well, wonder no more!

Bokuto and Akaashi are perfect together. 

They don’t let very many people in on the fact that they’re dating. But even someone who thinks they’re just friends can see clearly that they _fit_ somehow. 

They’re already perfect on their own. Bokuto is honest and outspoken and helpful and frankly said, built like the statue of a Greek god. Akaashi is smart and gentle and funny and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Together they are— _that_ , and so much more. They are so full of love and support for one another, fitting together like the world’s two most stunning puzzle pieces. 

Kei wonders how he ever thought that he could move in with two men this handsome and nothing bad would come of it. How he could think he could climb into bed with two men like this, who were firmly committed to each other and each other only, and not regret it later. 

Kei is a smart, calculated person. Why did he think he could live with them and not eventually long for what they have? 

The quiet, loving conversations. Their easy harmony. The way they are so solid together, a well-practiced team, but also never grow tired of each other. There is always a new spark of excitement for them, like every day they spend together will be the most wonderful adventure. 

Kei wants something like that. 

No. 

Worse. 

He wants exactly that. 

He wants _them_. 

But just because he knows that, that doesn’t mean he has to accept it. Only idiots and hopeless romantics take their feelings lying down. Kei is not like that. 

He knows perfectly well that wanting them is stupid and foolish. And because he has not completely lost his mind yet, he has long since resigned himself to the fact that it will never happen beyond the occasional night of heated sex. 

He could search his whole life and never find a man as perfect as Bokuto or Akaashi. He could date every last person on Earth and still never have a relationship as loving and fulfilling as those two. That’s just how things are. 

He’s lucky if he’ll ever make a relationship work at all. People don’t want him. 

Tsukishima Kei is just a simple human man. He would be boring if he wasn’t so intent on being mean. 

Being mean is the only special thing about him. It’s a wonderful defense mechanism, and it’s a wonderful tool to make others feel small and himself better, and it’s wonderful when he gets to be that way in bed. But no one enjoys that. It’s another thing he has long since come to terms with. Of course most people won’t enjoy being insulted or humiliated. That’s just how it is. And as much as Kei gets off on it, he doesn’t enjoy it much when his partner is actually getting hurt from it instead of enjoying it as well. 

So that, like having Bokuto or Akaashi or a relationship, is just another thing that will never happen. Kei is sure of that, and that’s enough to lock it all away inside and get on with his life. 

Until Kuroo Tetsurou comes along. 

Somehow, despite being very different from Bokuto or Akaashi, Kuroo is perfect in his own way. He’s a tease and doesn’t hold back his words and he’s smart as hell and he can quietly enjoy time together and somehow, impossibly, he’s into Kei. And the weird shit that Kei is into. 

Kei feels like he has found his puzzle piece. And then he takes that feeling and puts it into a bottle and flushes it down the proverbial drain along with the rest, never to be seen again. 

He and Kuroo fuck, and it’s probably the best thing to ever happen to Kei, aside from maybe fucking Bokuto and Akaashi. 

It is also, very much and without a doubt, temporary. 

Kuroo isn’t here to stay. Kuroo will run off to his Kenma the second he hears from the guy. It's another uncomfortable truth that Kei just has to accept. But until he leaves— 

Until then, Kei will get all that he can from this. 

It will, most likely, destroy him when Kuroo leaves. But Kei has already slipped into this— _whatever it is_ —when he wasn’t aware of how attached he’d get to Kuroo, and he’s rational and self-disciplined about everything else in his life, and just this once—he wants to _have_ something. He wants to indulge. Fuck the consequences. 

He likes it, and Kuroo likes it, and Bokuto needs to shut his fucking mouth. 

Tonight, Kei thinks, knowing it’s petty and immature and vicious and still he’s absolutely fine with it—tonight he will make Kuroo scream so loudly that the other two hear. 

Fuck them. Fuck Bokuto for thinking that Kei would seriously hurt Kuroo. Kei knows that he’s an asshole, but he’s not complete and utter garbage. He is going to make a very clear point of how much Kuroo is enjoying what they do, thanks very much. He has many plans and ideas for when he gets home. 

It’s late already when he finally makes it back after work. His clock reads a few minutes past nine pm. Kei is tired, but his resolve holds strong. He will show them. 

But then all of his plans crumble to dust the moment he walks past Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s room to his own and hears muffled laughter from inside. 

Kuroo’s laughter. 

Kuroo is— 

In there. With them. 

Kei stops. 

And turns. 

And does something very stupid. 

To his credit, he hesitates about a full ten seconds before he does it. 

But then that seething, burning thing inside of him boils over, and his hand is on the handle, and he’s throwing their door open, teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw is aching. 

They’re all on the bed. All three of them. 

_Of course_ they are. Kei expected nothing else. 

It still makes him even angrier to actually _see_ it. They’re all tangled together so closely that Kei can’t even tell which legs are whose at a glance. For some reason, Bokuto is without a shirt. Kuroo is pressing kisses to Akaashi’s cheek and not being as chaste about it as he could be. Akaashi is laughing quietly and obviously enjoying himself, one hand buried in Kuroo’s hair and the other resting on Bokuto’s impressive chest. Bokuto has an arm wrapped around Kuroo’s waist, and is littering kisses over Akaashi’s throat. At a closer look, it’s probably his knee up between Kuroo’s legs. 

They all go still, though, when they see Kei standing in the doorway. 

Kei’s nerves feel like a wire, heating up until it burns through and snaps. He wants to fucking scream, seeing them like that—all the things he can’t have. He’s made his peace with so much, but Kuroo— 

He wasn’t ready to lose Kuroo yet. He thought he still had time— 

How _dare_ Akaashi and Bokuto take him. They already have each other. They’re so fucking perfect together that it hurts to even look at them. Why do they have to take the _one good thing_ that Kei had for himself? 

He breathes. Tells himself not to cry. 

“I’m home,” Kei grinds out pointedly, sending an icy glare their way. 

Kuroo has the decency to pull away from his two new lovers, at least a little. The look he sends Kei’s way is all innocent and clueless, like he has no idea that anything is wrong. Like he didn’t just break something important inside of Kei. 

He probably really doesn’t know. That’s the ironic thing. It’s all just casual sex to Kuroo. All just a distraction before he takes off and gets back to his Kenma. 

It’s Kei’s own damn fault for wanting more than he can have. 

“Hey, Tsukki,” Kuroo greets him after a very long, very uncomfortable silence. Neither Akaashi nor Bokuto are saying anything, and Bokuto is glaring at Kei like he just offended him on every level possible. 

He supposes he did offend Bokuto. 

Did Bokuto tell Kuroo about it? Is that why Kuroo is here with them? Did Kuroo decide that Kei was just too mean and that he’s better off with these two? 

He wouldn’t be wrong. Kuroo does deserve better than Kei and his vicious words. 

Kei still hopes it’s not what happened. He knows he said terrible things to Bokuto, and he shouldn’t have, and if he was a kinder, better, stronger person, he would apologize and try to fix things. 

But he’s not. 

He's just mean, boring Kei, who can only do things to hurt other people. 

It’s miracle enough that Kuroo likes it. Maybe—maybe that can be his saving grace. 

Kuroo likes it that Kei is mean and it’s something that only Kei can give him. These two soft, loving gentlemen certainly won’t. 

“You getting bored without me?” Kei asks, straightening up and raising his brows to stare down at Kuroo coldly. 

There’s a faint tremble in Kuroo’s ears. A hungry grin sneaks onto his lips. “Oh, is someone jealous?” he purrs, sliding off the bed and sidling up to Kei. 

Kei could cry with relief. This is a game he knows how to play. 

“Tsukishima. We should talk,” Akaashi says. 

Kei couldn’t care less. As soon as Kuroo is in reaching distance, Kei grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls him in close. There’s nothing gentle about it, not in the tight grip of his hand, not in the mean twist of his arm that holds Kuroo just low enough that he can’t fully stand up, forced to duck beneath Kei, and not in the disdainful way he looks Kuroo over. Kuroo’s cheeks are flushed a nice pink color and his lips are kiss-swollen but— 

Kei knows he can fuck him up more than that. He’s well on his way to it already, judging by Kuroo’s excited smile and the breathless little pants and the way he’s squirming to get even closer. 

Kei takes a kiss from Kuroo. Doesn’t ask, doesn’t tease, just goes in by force, biting on Kuroo’s lower lip until he opens his mouth and Kei can take whatever he wants. He holds Kuroo firmly in place and sucks and bites and pushes at him until he deems it enough, dragging Kuroo back without warning to look at his now red mouth, the imprint of Kei’s teeth left on his lower lip, the frantic rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo looks a little out of it, gasping, before his expression sharpens into a leer full of delight and hunger for more. 

“I don’t see why we need to talk,” Kei says, turning towards Akaashi and Bokuto and thoroughly ignoring Kuroo and his sweet little whine. “If you want to fool around with him, that has nothing to do with me.” 

Akaashi’s eyes narrow dangerously. “It does when you and Bokuto fight about it. You should apologize to him.” 

Kei clicks his teeth. “What for? _He’s_ the one who came up to _me_ and accused me of _abusing_ Kuroo.” 

Bokuto and Akaashi both flinch back from the word. Kei can feel Kuroo twitch, too. So maybe Kuroo hadn’t heard about their fight yet. 

Oh, well. He was going to find out about it eventually. Not like Kei can hide how much of an asshole he can be. 

“I didn’t say that!” Bokuto protests, visibly upset now. He awkwardly squirms off the bed, just so he can stand and glare at Kei. 

“You thought it,” Kei states coldly. He knows it’s the truth. It’s a harsh, ugly word, but it’s absolutely what Bokuto made up in his mind. 

Or, well—technically, it’s just what Kei told him. Bokuto was simply worried, and Kei did his level best to make it sound like he was forcing Kuroo into things he didn’t like, so really—maybe it’s on _Kei_ —but the fact that Bokuto believed it instead of seeing through him— 

Usually, Kei really likes it that Bokuto takes him by his word. That Kei doesn’t have to try very hard to pretend, that whatever he says gets accepted, unlike with Akaashi where it’s always a long, careful game of implications and seeing through false layers. But— 

But a part of Kei was thinking, naively, that Bokuto wouldn’t just roll with it when he implied that he was seriously hurting Kuroo. Even knowing that it is no one’s fault but his own, to see now that Bokuto is believing him—thinking Kei could be— _like that_ — 

He wishes it wasn’t like this. Wishes he could find some of that usual stubbornness in Bokuto’s expression. Wishes he could spot that blind faith and annoying optimism somewhere— 

But Bokuto is staying quiet, for once. Looking pale and unhappy and defeated. 

And that is all the proof Kei needs to confirm it. Bokuto really thought that Kei would— 

The worst part about it is how much it _hurts_. So much more than Kei wants to admit. He always tries so hard to keep an emotional distance from these two, but he’s _still_ — 

No one dares to say anything and that only makes the damning silence stretch longer. Kei has to really focus on not tearing up. It would feel like losing. 

“You said to me that you did those things,” Bokuto huffs eventually, maybe going for petulant with his tone but it comes out weak and shaky and unsure instead. It’s so pathetic, so withdrawn, so broken, exactly like he was yesterday— 

But the devastating rush of power that Kei felt over making him cry back then—this time, it just won’t come. Kei stays empty inside. And cold. And lonely. 

Still, he gathers his focus and sends Bokuto a disdainful glare. “I told you what we _did_ ,” he says, his voice almost flat as he fights very hard to keep his composure. “ _You’re_ the one who assumed that I would do it against Kuroo’s wishes.” 

It’s maybe half-true. At best. Yesterday, Kei really did want Bokuto to assume the worst, really was trying to make it sound like he was walking all over Kuroo, because he knew that would upset Bokuto the most. 

But today, it feels like shit to say it and see Bokuto’s gaze scurry to the ground. A silent admission. 

Kei is—maybe not in the right, but Bokuto is not arguing back anymore. Kei is winning this argument without even having to be mean. And maybe it should feel good but— 

All he wants to do is leave and curl up on his bed and cry. 

Kuroo wraps a hand around Kei’s wrist, and Kei startles. He was so focused on Bokuto and on keeping his feelings from showing that he truly _forgot_ about how he’s holding Kuroo close. He loosens his hold now, so Kuroo can stand up straight. 

They’re not playing anymore. Kei can’t win this. He’s not going to be able to sneak Kuroo out of here with promises of rough, kinky sex and steal himself one more night. 

His chest feels too tight and he fights the urge to step back. To flee. 

Kuroo is shooting him a sad look and then looks at Bokuto much the same way. 

“Bo, really?” Kuroo asks. He sounds hurt. Subdued. “Did you—did you really think that about Tsukki? Why didn’t you say—we _just_ talked about it, I thought you just meant he was being rough—” 

That seems to spur Bokuto into action. He frantically shakes his head, raising his hands in front of himself defensively. “No, listen, Kuroo. I was concerned, but I didn’t think Tsukki would—would—” 

A small part of Kei is delighted to see him squirm like that. It serves Bokuto right for thinking that Kei would _ever_ — 

But rationally, Kei knows he played a part in this. He threw all the meanest things he could think of at Bokuto. He really tried to rile him up. He played up everything that he knew Bokuto would dislike. He wanted to see Bokuto hurt by it. Angry. Furious. Helpless. In pain. 

In _more_ pain than Kei. 

Bokuto definitely looks the part now, all slumped the way he is, drooping like a sad puppy. Seeing it, the little bit of satisfaction in Kei’s chest burns and flickers and fizzles out. It drips away between his numb fingers, stale and sickening. And then all Kei is left with is a painful, hollow ache between his ribs. 

“But why wouldn’t you bring that up if you were worried? I don’t understand,” Kuroo croaks, and he sounds honestly torn up about it. Worse than Kei expected him to be—he has to be missing something. “You don’t—Do you just not believe me when I tell you things? Is that why you still think so badly of Kenma?” 

Ah. There it is. 

Back to Kenma as usual. 

Because clearly, Bokuto thinking badly of _Kenma_ is the worst thing happening here, right? Next to that, everything else just doesn’t matter to Kuroo. 

Kei wants to scoff, and Bokuto has to feel something similar because there’s a shudder in his shoulders, like he’s just barely holding himself back from something. Bokuto’s expression isn’t schooled as carefully, brows drawing together in fierce anger. His fists clench and a white line of feathers rises up over his shoulders. 

Before he can say anything, Akaashi is behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Kou, no,” he murmurs quietly. He’s standing firm, but his fingers are shaking. 

Kuroo looks like he’s going to cry. His eyes are shot through with red, lips pressed together in a pale line. And then he walks, nearly topples forward, right into Kei’s shoulder. Kei is so surprised by it that he almost falls over. 

His arms come up around Kuroo automatically. 

He can barely believe it. 

He can’t believe that Bokuto fucked up so badly that Kuroo actually wants to be with Kei instead. It’s the most luck Kei has ever had in his life. 

It doesn’t feel like he’s lucky. It feels like he’s going to throw up. 

Why doesn’t it feel good? 

“Kuroo, I’m sorry, buddy, please—I know I’m—I’m _trying_ , I promise—” Bokuto chokes out, raw and broken. He’s crying. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Proud, wide shoulders curled in and pressing into Akaashi’s hug. 

Kei can feel how Kuroo jerks towards Bokuto in his arms. Pulling away from Kei, just a few seconds after coming back. 

Because he’s a complete and utter idiot, Kei lets him go. 

Kuroo walks almost like he’s in a trance, steps slow and unsteady. His hands shake when he places them on Bokuto’s shoulders. “Then _listen_ to me,” he asks, tone beseeching. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do if you won’t believe me when I tell you something.” 

Bokuto’s reaches up to cradle Kuroo’s face, gentler than Kei ever thought anyone could be. “I’m so sorry, Kuroo. I promise you, I’ll try—” 

Kuroo makes a soft, wet, happy sound, and muffles it promptly by pressing a firm kiss to Bokuto’s lips. “Please do,” he rasps out. 

Kei is beginning to feel out of place here. He should probably leave. Whatever he was trying to salvage with Kuroo, it’s apparent that it’s not nearly as interesting as what Bokuto and Akaashi are offering him. 

If Kei could choose between himself and those two, he would choose them, too. So it’s not like he can begrudge Kuroo the decision. 

Even though it means that Kuroo is _leaving him_ — 

But then, strangely, Kuroo turns a little from Bokuto and looks at him. His tail curls towards Kei, almost like an arm reaching out, even as both of Kuroo’s hands remain firmly on Bokuto’s chest. 

There’s a truly unfathomable smile on Kuroo’s face, so soft and genuine that it’s reigniting a heat and a hope inside of Kei that really have no place there. 

Before he can think any better of it, Kei is stumbling a step closer. It’s hardly even a conscious movement. There is something hot and heavy lodged inside of his chest, pulling him forward to where Kuroo is, to where Bokuto and Akaashi are— 

Kei stops when he becomes aware of the glare Bokuto is shooting him over Kuroo’s shoulder. It’s softer and more wounded with Bokuto’s cheeks still wet from tears, but it’s unwavering nevertheless. 

Kei knows—as much as he’s avoided it—he knows he has said some terrible things to Bokuto that still stand between them. 

“I’m—sorry,” he presses out before he knows it. Before he can stop himself. 

His throat is closing up, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s trying to get the words out or keep them inside. He makes himself search for them, anyway, spurred on by some terribly foolish part of himself that is seeing _everything he wants_ in front of him—right after being reminded that Kuroo _won’t stay_ , because the only one who really matters to him is fucking _Kenma_ —but Kuroo is still _here_ , just for now, _together with Bokuto and Akaashi_ —and Kei is _hoping, wishing_ —as is there was anything to _salvage_ here. To build. As if there was any _chance_ — 

Kei is going to look so stupid, but he can’t make himself _shut up_ with their eyes on him. Kuroo looking so innocently expectant, Bokuto sad and yet surprised, and Akaashi so guarded and _wary_ that it makes Kei feel like a fucking monster. That’s maybe the worst part. Maybe that’s why Kei can’t stop. 

“I’m sorry about what I said yesterday,” he mutters, quietly. “I was angry and I wanted to get under your skin, and I said things that I didn’t mean and that you didn’t deserve to be accused of. I—I apologize, Bokuto.” 

Both Bokuto and Akaashi keep glaring, completely unmoved. Unimpressed. Kei can’t fucking breathe right under that look. 

He gulps and takes a step back. His eyes are burning uncomfortably. He’ll just have to bear it. That’s what he gets for losing his temper. He said things that can’t be taken back with just a simple ‘I’m sorry’. 

“Okay,” Bokuto says then, and Kei almost trips over his own feet. “I was out of line, too. I’m really sorry that I came at you like that. That wasn’t okay. Let’s both try to do better, alright?” 

Kei is afraid his mouth is hanging open. He has to look like a complete fool. 

He can’t help it. 

Did he hear that wrong? 

Is doesn’t feel right, to be forgiven like this. 

It’s _too easy_. It doesn’t even feel _good_ —it feels like he’s getting away with something very wrong and terrible. 

Is Bokuto serious? Is he really going to forgive Kei just like that? 

He looks serious. As serious as Akaashi, who is still glaring at Kei from behind Bokuto, but staying silent. 

Kei shouldn’t accept this. 

He _knows_ that what he did was awful. He didn’t even apologize properly, leaving out so many of the awful things he said that weren’t about him and Kuroo sleeping together, but only aimed at hurting Bokuto. And they did hurt. Kei knows. Kei wanted that. He wanted what Bokuto and Akaashi have, and he wanted Kuroo, and he wanted Bokuto to suffer because he had everything Kei wanted, and now— 

Now it looks, almost, like Kei can actually have what he wants. Can have them. _All of them._

Just for now. Just for a moment. 

Just until Kuroo will leave. 

There is a weak, fluttering feeling, a need to put things right. To insist that they can’t forgive him so easily because what Kei did was _bad_ and he didn’t even really admit to it before Bokuto let him off the hook. Kei should point that out. He should talk about this. But— 

But. 

He’s far too scared of this chance slipping away. 

_This_ , right here in front of him, is far too precious to put it off. It’s something so fragile that it might just disappear entirely if Kei doesn’t go for it right now. 

He still doesn’t understand why Bokuto is offering this to him in the first place, but— 

It’s _right there. All of them_. And Kei wants this _so badly_. 

“Okay,” he squeaks out, quiet and confused and so pathetically _desperate_ for this. 

Kuroo’s tail flicks, like he’s beckoning Kei closer, and then Bokuto holds out a hand, too. 

Kei thinks, this is a terrible idea. 

Kei thinks, not apologizing properly here and now will definitely come back and bite him in the ass later on. 

Kei thinks, it was bad enough before when it was just Bokuto and Akaashi who he couldn’t have. 

Kei thinks, it's already going to destroy him when Kuroo leaves. 

Kei thinks, it would be the most foolish thing to try with all four of them now, knowing it is just a casual, temporary arrangement. One that he will inevitably lose and then he’ll be all alone. 

Kei thinks, nothing good can come of following his heart, because _that_ is the dumb, stupid, irrational thing pulling him forward here. He’s not here just because he thinks that hooking up with the three of them would be really hot. He can’t deny that anymore. All he can do is try to resist. It’s the only way to get out of this mess unscathed. But— 

But despite all of his thoughts, Kei doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from stepping towards them, drawn forward by his dumb, dumb heart. 

Kuroo’s tail curls around him. Bokuto’s hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him closer, until he’s flush against Kuroo’s back and they’re all standing pressed together in the middle of the room like idiots. 

It feels much harder to breathe than it should be. Kei is a bit worried that he’s going to cry and embarrass himself, and with that he’ll let the others in on the terrible secret that this is not nearly as fun and casual for him as it is for them. 

“See, this is why we talk about our feelings,” Akaashi remarks dryly, startling an awful, raspy chuckle out of Kei and drawing laughter from Bokuto and Kuroo. It works to push Kei’s tears back, luckily. 

Kei dares a careful glance at Akaashi. Has Akaashi forgiven him? 

Akaashi didn’t look happy when Bokuto accepted Kei’s weak excuse for an apology just now. But currently, Kei can't spot any of that lingering wariness in Akaashi’s expression. 

It could mean that Kei is in the clear. It could also mean that Akaashi is just hiding it, for now. Maybe Akaashi’s main concern right now is simply to smooth things over, just like Kei is hoping to do. 

Maybe Akaashi is, for some inexplicable reason—Could it be, possibly, that he’s just as desperate as Kei to pull this insane hook-up together, before it can slip away between their fingers? 

The sound of Kuroo’s easy laugh draws Kei out of his thoughts. Kuroo shuffles happily in their midst, in a way that reminds Kei of a cat rubbing against his legs. Bokuto is grinning widely, happy and proud. His hand presses into Kei’s shoulder and Kei has to fight the urge to melt into it. 

This is dangerous. 

He has just lit the fuse to a bomb that will leave him a broken, burned out shell. 

He just agreed to casual sex with three other people, and Kei is feeling more than he should for _every_ one of them. 

But for now— 

“Now kiss and make up,” Kuroo purrs into his ear, voice sinfully low and rough, eyes filled with molten gold as he glances between Kei and Bokuto. 

Kei’s heart does something weird and painful and unsettling. He squashes the feeling down by firmly pinching Kuroo’s ass, making him yelp. “Fiend,” he hisses. 

Hastily, he glances over at Bokuto, just to make sure there are no hard feelings so soon after their fight— 

But Bokuto is staring at him, eyes wide and hungry and transfixed. 

Kei’s mouth goes very dry, very fast. This is absolutely not how he expected Bokuto to react. He was prepared for anger. Caution. For _something_ negative to linger after all of the horrible things Kei said to him. 

But there is none of that. Instead, Bokuto is looking at Kei like—like he’s actually _wants_ this. 

Like he wants to kiss Kei. Like it would matter to him, like it would be something important. More meaningful than just a passing pleasure. Like Bokuto _cares_ — 

Kei has to be projecting. 

This is it. He got too soft and let his stupid feelings take over and now his mind is completely turning to mush. How pathetic. 

“Kuroo,” Akaashi says, admonishing. 

Kuroo shrugs innocently and shifts with the movement, rubbing himself against Kei again in that very distracting way that Kei is beginning to suspect is not entirely accidental. “Well, sue me,” Kuroo hums, not very apologetic and with a toothy grin. “You guys might be the hottest hook-up I’ve ever had. I’m a little impatient to get things started.” 

Kei feels himself balk at the word, even though he should know better. It rankles him. The obvious statement that it’s just something temporary, meaningless. 

He can see Bokuto startle forward, too, before Akaashi pulls him back in. And there’s an unhappy purse to Akaashi’s mouth, just for a moment, before it’s replaced by a bland smile. 

Kei knows those two have been doting on Kuroo. Maybe they’re in deeper than he thought. Maybe Kei is not the only one getting unhealthily attached. 

For one short second of absolute madness, Kei wonders if they should ask Kuroo to stay. 

Then he stomps down on the idea. Kuroo would never agree. He’s having fun with them, but at the end of the day, all he really wants is to get back to his Kenma. None of them, not Bokuto, not Akaashi, and certainly not Kei, can hold a candle to that. 

They’ll just have to take whatever they can get while they still have the chance. 

It’s not hard to focus on that when Kuroo is wiggling his hips once more, suggestively, pressing his ass back against Kei. Kei grabs the base of his perfectly fluffy tail and makes him hold still. 

“Why, getting needy for attention?” he hums, low and cold in the way that drives Kuroo mad when they fuck. 

It works like a charm. Kei watches, entranced, as Kuroo’s lashes flutter and his tongue darts out over his lips and the tips of his ears tremble. "You know I always like attention,” Kuroo hums in a tone that’s probably aiming to be seductive and comes out very breathy instead. 

Kei is almost dizzy with excitement over how easily Kuroo is going along with him this time. Bending to his wishes. Kei wants to push more, see how far he can take it this time. Make Kuroo shake and beg for it, drive him to tears and desperation. See him come apart at the seams. 

But they’re not alone this time. 

And Bokuto has made it clear what he thinks of this. 

Worried, Kei looks over Kuroo’s shoulder to the other two. He's shocked to find them both watching with—interest. Bokuto certainly seems a little bit wary, chewing on his lower lip—but he’s not stopping them. If anything, he looks like he wants to see where it will go. And Akaashi’s eyes are wide open, lips parted ever so slightly and letting out captivated, heated little breaths of air. 

They’re excited. 

They _like_ this. They want to see Kei make a mess of Kuroo with just a few words. 

Kei hardly even dares to think it. It’s too amazing to be true. 

He can take Kuroo apart with them watching. He can make them see how good he’s making Kuroo feel. How pretty Kuroo is. Kei can share all of Kuroo’s beautiful moans and whines with them. He knows Kuroo will be wonderful for him, especially with Bokuto and Akaashi around. Kei can make him arch and beg for them so prettily. He wants to see what it will do to them, having Kuroo like that. What Bokuto will look like when Kuroo asks to be fucked by him. How Akaashi will sound when he has Kuroo’s wicked, rough tongue running over his cock. 

Fuck, Kei will make this so _good_ for them. 

Deliberately slowly, he runs his fingers up Kuroo’s front, pulling his shirt up along with the touch. Kuroo shivers and arches into him with a small gasp. Smirking, Kei slows down even more, just to tease. Kuroo waits only for a moment before he’s slipping off his shirt himself and letting it drop to the ground. Kei isn’t really against having more skin to touch, so he does. He puts his hands back on Kuroo’s warm chest, fingers running up— 

“Guys,” Bokuto croaks out, low and breathy. His voice alone is enough to send a heated shiver down Kei’s spine. 

But when Kei looks up, Bokuto’s brows are pinched, and Akaashi is very pale, ducking behind him. 

“Wait—okay, let’s not—” Bokuto trails off, sounding unsure. It’s subtle, but Kei can see him slide his hand into Akaashi’s and squeeze. 

Kei has to work hard not to let his disappointment show on his face. He thought that he could have all of them, _right now_ , but— 

This is going very fast. He should have anticipated that the lovey-dovey couple would bow out. 

Really, what was Kei _expecting_. Just yesterday, he was tearing into Bokuto about having a crush on Kuroo—it’s strange enough already that _today_ , only one day later, Bokuto and Akaashi are both making out with Kuroo. Especially Akaashi is a surprise, because in his case, Kei would be jealous as fuck. Then again, Akaashi seems to have a special soft spot Kuroo, so maybe it’s not just Bokuto who’s— 

But all that aside, this is too fast for them. So. 

“Okay,” Kei murmurs and pulls back a little from where he was draping himself over Kuroo’s naked back. 

He wants this _so much_. But if they rush it, it’s just going to fall apart on them sooner. They should be more careful. 

Kuroo nods. “Yeah—” 

His voice cuts off oddly. Kei looks at him, and it’s— 

Kuroo has gone very still, mouth still half open, eyes staring off into nothing. 

Kei knows as soon as he sees it, even though he’s not sure what’s happening— 

Something is wrong. 

Kuroo is standing ramrod straight, unmoving. He’s so silent that Kei doesn’t even know if he’s still breathing. His eyes are wide open but unseeing. His ears slide down, pressing back, flat against his head. And then an awful, dry, wheezing sound rattles out of him, like all the air is leaving his lungs at once. 

"Kuroo?” Kei asks, concerned, half a moment after Bokuto does. 

Something is not right, and it doesn’t get any better when Kuroo is breathing again, small panicked gulps of air that come back out as sobs. His shoulders draw up, shaking, and he stumbles out from between them. He makes it only two steps before he promptly collapses on the ground, clawing at his chest. 

Kei is too shocked to move or follow. 

Kuroo writhes, and the small whimpering sounds that leave him are tearing gouges into Kei’s heart one by one. 

“No, no, no, no, _please no_ —” 

It’s breathy and quiet. Full of pain and terror. Kei has never heard anyone sound like this. 

He wants to help, but he can’t. His body is cold and numb and won’t move. He can’t _think_. His thoughts won’t move past a panicked, screeching— 

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 

_Something is terribly wrong with Kuroo_ , and Kei doesn’t know anything except that it’s _bad_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gee, I wonder if Kuroo had something bad to eat...? ( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)
> 
> So. You might think that I'm very mean for throwing this in just when they finally worked some things out, but! Please be aware that I _also_ could have done it _before_ they talked to each other and that would have been _worse_.


	12. Action Plot Politely Reminds Romance Plot That It’s Ready To Go Whenever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, you might be thinking to yourself "wow, onyx, that chapter update is really early. shouldn't you wait a bit longer and use this extra time to write ahead, especially since you might have a job starting May and then there won't be as much time for fic writing anymore?"  
> and you would be absolutely right to say that, but please consider: 1. i am about 100k words ahead at all times because my brain thinks weird, and 2. no one is more excited for this fic than _me_ and i didn't want to wait anymore

Kenma is there.

Kenma is right there in the bond, but for some reason, Tetsurou can’t reach him.

It’s wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this. It has never been like this.

When they both open the connection, they’re supposed to slide together into their shared space. It’s safe. It’s easy. It’s like coming home.

Kenma made this spell. It doesn’t fail. It never fails.

It’s not working right now.

Tetsurou is caught somewhere, between drifting off and being stuck in his own body. He's trying to leave, trying to find Kenma, but it’s not working. He’s stuck, but also too out of it to move, to breathe, to—anything.

He’s in pain. Somehow. He has never been in pain from the bond before. But it’s tearing at him now, from where it’s lodged inside his chest, crushing his heart and his lungs and pounding against his ribs until it feels like they’re being twisted and snapped off one by one.

Tetsurou would scream if he could only breathe.

It feels like he’s dying. He’s scared.

He wants it to stop. He wants to reach Kenma. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Where is all this pain coming from? Is it Kenma’s?

He tries to shake it off but can’t. He’s grasping at his chest, as if that will allow him to reach the bond and just hold on.

He can’t.

Blood is rushing and roaring in his ears. He’s not sure where he is anymore.

It hurts so bad. He thinks he’s crying. And it keeps building, keeps getting worse, drowning him, choking him, tearing and ripping at his chest until he—

It stops.

He's still in pain, his head is ringing, but it’s different, _there but not there_ , an echo that is screaming in his head without sound. His chest is—

He freezes.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, _please no_ , it can’t be—

It’s _gone_.

The bond is—

Broken. Snapped. Frayed.

_Gone._

That small piece of magic inside of him that always lets him know that Kenma is alive somewhere out there—

Gone.

It’s all empty now. Cold and awful and wrong. It can’t be.

Kenma’s spells don’t just break. Tetsurou has never heard of a bond breaking. Not while the people who share it are still alive.

It can’t be.

It can’t—

Tetsurou can’t breathe. There’s sound and light and touch around him and he can’t be bothered to care. He thinks he’s maybe crying or wailing or screaming. This can’t be happening. Kenma can’t be—

He's reaching out and only notices how badly he’s lost control when the smell of his own twisted magic hits his nose. He yanks it back in forcefully. He can’t let people find out what he is. It would cause trouble for Kenma. He can’t.

Kenma is going to come back, and Tetsurou will be waiting for him.

Kenma is _coming back_.

Tetsurou is waiting for him just like he’s supposed to. Kenma is smart and strong. Kenma would have asked if he needed Tetsurou’s help. Otherwise Tetsurou wouldn’t be waiting. He wouldn’t be hiding in safety while Kenma is out there, dy—

Tetsurou shakes.

He can’t feel the bond at all anymore. It’s all gone. Not a single thread of it left. He couldn’t sense any of it even when he reached so deep that his own demonic magic came spilling out. And he can’t feel it now, no matter how desperately he’s clawing at his chest, reaching—

Something grabs his hands and pulls them away.

He wants to protest, but he can’t form anything more than a wail. He wants to pull free and his limbs won’t move right. The world is blurry. Buried in a haze of sound.

Tetsurou doesn’t care. He needs to get back into the bond. He needs to talk to Kenma, make sure he’s fine. Ask him when he’s finally coming back.

Tetsurou needs him. He doesn’t have anyone other than Kenma. They’re always going to stick together. It will always be the two of them. Kenma—

Someone is talking to him. He thinks. He thinks someone is saying his name.

He can’t really hear them. He can’t breathe right. A part of him is missing, the _most important part_ —

The world is swimming. There are faces. Hands are pulling at Tetsurou to make him look. He can’t focus.

He’s still grasping, still hoping he’ll find the string between them again. They’re always connected. Kenma has to be there somewhere. Kenma is—

Somewhere, there has to be—if Tetsurou just tries _hard enough_ —

He blinks and it’s not Kenma in front of him.

Tetsurou’s chest is hollow and empty. An aching abyss.

It’s gone. It can’t be.

“Kuroo? Kuroo, you have to breathe, buddy, please—”

That sounds like Bokuto. He sounds upset. Scared. It’s not right.

Kei’s face is swimming in front of him, blurry and pale.

“Come on, Kuroo, breathe, calm down, breathe, yeah—”

Akaashi’s voice. He doesn’t sound very calm, either. He sounds panicked.

Tetsurou would try to figure out what has them so upset, if his own mind wasn’t a burning wasteland right now.

It’s going to be alright, Tetsurou thinks hysterically. Everything will be alright. Kenma is brilliant and resourceful and he _never fails_ —

“Tetsurou,” Kei whispers softly, thumbs rubbing over Tetsurou’s wrists.

It will be alright. Kenma will come back.

“Tetsurou, you’re safe, just breathe, okay? Everything is alright.”

Everything is—

Tetsurou tries to hold on. He _tries_. Kenma will be—

_Kenma._

The bond is gone.

Tetsurou chokes on his own sob, and breaks.

He falls forward, not sure who he hits but clinging to them anyway, unable to stop his tears. Burying his face into a warm shoulder doesn’t muffle his scream.

It hurts so bad. He can’t—

“No,” he sobs out, wet and broken and barely above a whimper. “No, please, K— _Kenma_ —”

He can’t stop crying.

There’s a small gasp from Akaashi and warm hands are rubbing his back. Tetsurou can’t bring himself to care.

Nothing matters anymore. There are hushed words and gentle touches and it all passes him by without any meaning to it.

All he can do is cry as he waits, _desperately_ , for the small spark in his chest, the soft tug letting him know that he’s _wrong_ , that Kenma is still there—

It doesn’t come.

It settles in at some point. Cold and inescapable.

It won’t come. The bond is gone.

 _Kenma is_ —

Tetsurou chokes and shakes, and it’s bad enough to draw him back into his body.

Everything hurts. His face is clammy and wet. His throat dry and raw. He’s empty. Drained of all strength. He thinks he should still be crying but there’s nothing left, somehow.

He’s on the bed, pressed in between warm bodies and a tangle of limbs holding him.

The shoulder he's leaning against is covered in wet fabric. He thinks that’s Kei’s shirt.

Someone is speaking quietly, softly, even as their voice is scratchy and hurt.

“—’s alright, it’s okay, we’re all here, we’ve got you. You’re not alone. Keep on breathing, steady, you’ve got it—”

Tetsurou wonders what happened to Bokuto, to have Akaashi talking to him in such a concerned way. So gently. So desperately affectionate.

It’s the first clear thought Tetsurou has had in a while.

Then he realizes—Akaashi is probably not talking to Bokuto.

Akaashi is talking to _him_.

Tetsurou is the one they’re all worried about. The one who broke down. The one who lost—

He whimpers, and Akaashi’s gentle voice falters, before he picks back up. He’s rubbing small circles into Tetsurou’s ears. Tetsurou becomes aware of that slowly, bit by bit.

Kei's arms are around him, holding him tight, and there’s another large hand rubbing his side. That has to be Bokuto’s.

They’re all here.

It’s an odd piece of comfort to hold on to, after Tetsurou’s entire world just came apart.

He’ll take it.

He shifts, just enough that he can actually look at them instead of staring at Kei’s ruined shirt. Keeping his eyes open hurts, like they’re too sore right now.

“I kinda ruined the mood, huh?” he croaks out. He tries to make it sound teasing, but his voice is shot and talking hurts, too, and he almost starts crying again without even knowing why.

Akaashi stops his muttering and swallows. “Hey, baby.”

If Tetsurou wasn’t an empty, hollow, aching shell of himself, he thinks the word would have made him feel warm inside. As it is, that warmth just sinks into the empty cold inside of him and disappears.

“What happened?” Kei asks, voice calm but he still sounds shaken to Tetsurou.

“You scared us,” Bokuto murmurs, propped up to look over Akaashi’s shoulder.

Tetsurou squirms. He doesn’t want to say it. To acknowledge it. But he guesses it can’t really be avoided.

Akaashi is looking at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes, like he’s been crying himself. “Something happened with Kenma?” He looks as pained as Tetsurou feels, and Tetsurou doesn’t know if that’s making this better or worse.

Tetsurou nods haltingly. “I—our bond—it’s,” he breathes and wills himself to stop shaking. “Gone.”

Akaashi winces. His face is very pale. “Does that mean—?”

Tetsurou shakes his head. He feels like crying again, but tears won’t come. “I don’t know. I—I think so?”

Kei squeezes him tighter.

Bokuto’s hand on his hip stills. “You’re saying he’s dead?”

Tetsurou can’t help his whimper, and Akaashi jabs his elbow back into Bokuto’s chest. “Kou!”

“Sorry,” Bokuto mutters.

“You’re not sure?” Kei asks, cautious.

Tetsurou shrugs. It comes out as more of a shiver. “I don’t—I don’t know. It was an unusual bond, but I’ve never heard of one snapping. Not unless one side d—died, or broke the connection by force. And that’s not great for the people involved.”

“You didn’t look very great just now,” Kei points out.

“Kuroo,” Akaashi breathes softly. “Are you saying there’s a chance he’s alive?”

“Maybe.” The word tastes like ash on Tetsurou’s tongue.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he allows himself to hope now and then later finds out that he’s wrong. He feels destroyed enough right now.

But—

They’re not wrong. There’s a chance, he thinks. His mind is clearing up from the overwhelming rush of _pain-panic-loss_ now, and theoretically—

It _is_ possible. The bond is gone, but that doesn’t mean Kenma has to be. Maybe something just got badly fucked up because of whatever magical nonsense Kenma is involved in. Maybe Kenma is still out there.

Alive.

And if he’s not, then the least Tetsurou can do is find whatever killed him and rip it to shreds.

He sits up and immediately sways from the wave of nausea that rolls over him. “I have to find him.”

“What, now?” Bokuto squawks, steadying him.

“You should—probably rest a little,” Kei suggests. “Make a plan.”

“But if Kenma is still alive, he’ll need help right now!” Kuroo protests defensively. Apparently, his heart did not need long to latch on to this small glimmer of hope. He’s shaking with fear. Whatever shattered their bond could be trying to kill Kenma this very second.

“You won’t be able to find him right now,” Kei points out. “Right?”

Tetsurou deflates. Without the burst of panicked motivation, he feels weak and unsteady. Like he will pass out any moment. All his strength is gone. The only thing left is his magic, swirling wildly and traitorously beneath the surface, ready to burst out and ruin everything if he loses his hold on it for even one second.

He thinks it already slipped out a little bit earlier. But Akaashi is not looking at him with absolute terror, so Tetsurou must have caught it and reeled it back in quickly enough to not be found out.

“Get some rest,” Akaashi says softly, gently tugging Tetsurou to lie back down. “We’ll figure it out in the morning, yeah?”

Tetsurou hesitates. Kenma could be in danger right now. He could need Tetsurou’s help in this very instant.

But Kei is right that Tetsurou would never find him soon enough if that is the case. Tetsurou isn’t sure if he could do anything right now, anyway—not without losing control of his magic and giving himself away.

And he knows Akaashi would never say this lightly. Would never make him wait without good reason. Would never have him risk his connection to Kenma. Because Akaashi lost his own familiar. Akaashi knows this sort of pain. A _worse_ sort of pain, really, because Kenma and Tetsurou aren’t truly—

Akaashi has to be hurting for him right now, very much, and sickening guilt squeezes around Tetsurou’s insides now that he’s reminded of how much chaos and hurt his lies have caused Akaashi.

“We’ll help you find him. Tomorrow,” Bokuto says, voice earnest and gaze steely, cutting into the mess of Tetsurou’s thoughts.

Tetsurou startles with surprise and feels Akaashi do the same. “You will?” he asks.

Bokuto nods. “You’ll be sad otherwise,” he explains, like that is in any way a valid reason. Like he hasn’t vigorously disliked Kenma, without ever meeting him, from day one.

This time, somehow, Tetsurou’s body finds a few more tears. He nods, short and shaky. “Okay.”

“Good. Now get some sleep,” Kei tells him.

Tetsurou drapes himself over him in response, resting his head on a spot that he hasn’t cried wet earlier. Akaashi presses close against his back, and Bokuto throws an arm over all of them.

Exhausted as he is, it doesn’t take Tetsurou long to fall asleep.

His dreams are filled with Kenma crying for his help and dark splotches of blood. He sees Kenma’s body, limp and lifeless, torn to mangled pieces. And just like his mom back then, Kenma’s eyes are staring off into nothing, lifeless and dull.

* * *

It’s still the middle of the night when Kei is woken up by a loud, banging sound.

It takes him a moment to even orient himself, to find his glasses and stare at his phone with bleary eyes and register that it’s not quite 3 am yet, and to remember how he ended up in Akaashi’s and Bokuto’s bed to begin with, with Kuroo clinging to him like the world’s most desperate koala.

Even now, hours later, Kuroo’s eyes are still puffy and rimmed red.

Kei has never seen anyone break down like that before. It was terrifying. He hopes he’ll never see something like it again.

But if they do find Kenma, and he does turn out to be dead, Kei is worried that he’ll see something even worse from Kuroo.

Still they agreed to help him.

Well, Akaashi and Bokuto agreed. But Kei is not going to stand back. He’ll have to call in to work and tell them that he can’t come. His boss will chew his ear off for calling in on such short notice on a Saturday shift.

Can’t be helped.

Like hell Kei will not be there when they set out to find this Kenma. He’s not entirely sure where all this determination is coming from, but—

The banging sounds out again, startling him from his thoughts. This time, it’s shortly followed by the ring of their doorbell. In the darkness, Kei sees Akaashi and Bokuto rise up as well. Only Kuroo is still fast asleep and Kei counts it as a blessing.

Kuroo needs his rest.

Carefully, he extracts himself from Kuroo’s clutches and lets him latch on to Akaashi instead. “I'll see who it is,” he whispers. Akaashi nods.

He’s surprised when Bokuto follows him out of the room. Kei is not ungrateful for the company.

Who knows who’s showing up at their door in the middle of the night, causing a ruckus like that? Kuroo said that Kenma wanted him to hide. There could actually be something dangerous out there, looking for him.

Or—it could be Kenma.

Kei stops short as the thought hits him, and he only stumbles forward when Bokuto almost walks into him. “Sorry,” Kei mutters quietly.

If Kenma isn’t dead and the bond between him and Kuroo snapped—then maybe he came here to make sure that Kuroo doesn’t assume the worst. To tell Kuroo that he’s still alive.

Maybe he’ll take Kuroo with him.

It would save Kuroo a lot of pain and worrying.

Still, selfishly, Kei finds himself hoping that it’s not Kenma.

They turn on the light in the living room, and Kei tries to be quiet as he unlocks their door and opens it, Bokuto standing at his side.

The most peculiar two men are waiting outside. One is beaming at them with the most saccharine, dishonest smile, brown fluffy hair perfectly styled and designer-chic clothes pressed and layered to perfection. The other one, blonde hair cropped short, is glaring like he wants to beat Kei to death right here and now. Kei can’t tell for certain, but he’s fairly sure the guy is wearing pajamas.

Kei thinks to himself, if either of these two is Kenma, then he is ready and willing to join Bokuto in disliking the guy.

The angry guy of the two sniffs and grunts out, “It’s not one of them.”

The guy who is all fake smiles doesn’t acknowledge the statement at all. Instead he steps forward and simpers, “Good evening, gentlemen. Would you mind if—”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Kei cuts him off dryly. “So yes, I _do_ mind.”

The guy’s fake smile drops promptly and makes way for a deeply affronted expression. Kei likes this one far better, one because it’s honest and two because he’s already enjoying pissing this guy off. “Excuse me,” the man huffs, lips drawing into a pout like he’s trying to be cute. “I don’t enjoy being awake at this hour, either! You should have considered the time _before_ you summoned a demon!”

“A what?” Bokuto asks, dumbfounded.

“We summoned nothing,” Kei states. He knows for a fact that they haven’t. It’s a ridiculous accusation. Especially a demon! Kei doesn’t know shit about magic, but he knows that demons are bad news. He’s not allowing any demons or strange men inside, thanks very much. “Now please leave.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” the man tuts, waving his finger as if Kei is a child. Kei can feel his eyebrow twitch with annoyance. “You see, it doesn’t work like that,” he simpers, sickeningly sweet, as he rummages through a bag he’s carrying. He pulls out a small card with his picture on it, and a bunch of babble that Kei does read over but not really understand. “Oikawa Tooru,” the man introduces himself. “Higher mage of the city coven and enforcer of the Magical Creatures and Safety laws. Me and my lovely colleague are here because we were issued a report of demonic magic in this place.”

“Those words mean nothing to me,” Kei states coldly and honestly.

“Yeah,” Bokuto crows, “and like he said, there are no demons here. Go away!”

“You guys are behaving very suspiciously,” Oikawa sing-songs, his eyes gaining a dangerous glint.

Kei is not impressed. “We are behaving like tired people who want to go back to bed.”

“Well, too bad!” Oikawa hums with a bright, sharp smile. “We’re allowed to come inside and check! Kyoutani.”

His colleague grunts out something affirmative.

Kei is not too keen on letting them inside, but it appears he doesn’t have much of a choice. The blond shoulders past him and Bokuto like they’re flimsy garden gnomes, and stomps into their nice clean apartment with his filthy boots. The boots don’t match his pajamas very well.

Kei wishes Akaashi was here. Akaashi knows far more about magical laws and regulations than Bokuto and Kei do. He probably could have turned these idiots away at the door.

Much to Kei’s chagrin, Oikawa slips inside after his partner. Also without taking off his shoes.

Kei sends a helpless look towards Bokuto, who only shrugs in reply. Great.

Kyoutani is stomping back and forth through their living room, and then turns his incredibly grim frown at Oikawa. “Two more people here. They’re not demonic, either.”

“What?” Oikawa asks, blinking. “No, it should be here.”

Kyoutani grunts. He stomps towards Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s room, and Kei hurries over as fast as he can, driven forward by something inside of him that demands he should protect the place where Kuroo is sleeping and Akaashi is keeping watch.

Kei doesn’t make it in time to stop Kyoutani, however. Bokuto, apparently right behind him, barrels into him.

“We have guests,” Kei remarks dryly as he peeks inside the room. He’s a little worried, especially about Kuroo. Akaashi has him pulled tightly against him, sitting upright in bed with Kuroo’s arms curled around his waist. Kuroo has woken up at some point, wide eyes reflecting the light from outside the room like a cat’s.

Kyoutani has the decency to stay in the doorway, at least. He pointedly sniffs the air a few times. “It’s not one of them,” he states then, once more.

“No, it has to be one of them,” Oikawa whines and leans over his shoulder. “Look at them! One of them has cat ears! You can’t tell me they’re all human.”

“Hey,” Kuroo complains quietly. His voice is very scratchy. “Rude.”

Kei can’t see his expression too closely in the dark of the room. He really hopes Kuroo is holding up alright after what happened earlier. The last thing they need right now is for Kuroo to break down in another crying fit and for this fake-sweet magical cop to see it as some sign of guilt. Kei wouldn’t know what to say to explain their way out of it.

From what he’s caught, it’s highly unusual that Kuroo is someone’s familiar _and_ can turn mostly human. Is that something they need to hide from these guys? Right now, Kei really wishes he’d asked for more information on this.

“I know what I’m doing, asshole,” Kyoutani growls, and it’s a small comfort that he looks as pissed at Oikawa as Kei feels. Then his arm shoots out, pointing at Kei, and Kei takes back his tentative endorsement. “Human,” Kyoutani grunts, then points at Bokuto, “human, tengu. That one,” he points at Kuroo and sniffs the air again. Kei really wonders what the hell this guy’s deal is. “Cat spirit and human.” He points at Akaashi then. “Also human.”

Oikawa unhappily purses his lips. “So what? It’s just four hot guys shacking up together? Do we have the wrong place?”

“Yes,” Kei hisses, annoyed.

“No,” Kyoutani grumbles to his shock. “They all smell slightly of demonic magic. It’s almost gone, but it’s there. A demon was here.”

“That can’t be!” Bokuto protests. “We would have noticed if a demon came in here.”

“Oh, really?” Oikawa asks flatly, eyebrows raising up to disappear underneath his perfectly styled bangs. “You don’t seem like the kind of people to me who know so much about magic than they can figure out a demon. It probably duped you.”

“Well, you said it’s gone now,” Akaashi pipes up from the bed. “So thank you for your service and confirming that our apartment is devoid of any demons. I believe with that you no longer have any reason to stay?”

Kei could kiss Akaashi. It’s exactly the kind of put-together reasoning that should get this weird, annoying duo to leave.

Oikawa sniffs out an unhappy sound, crossing his arms and cocking his hips out to the side. “Rude!” he complains. “We’re only here to make sure you’re not next in a long line of demon-related casualties! You should be more grateful! We’ll just go and save someone else’s life. Kyoutani?”

Kyoutani doesn’t reply. He stands very still for an unsettlingly long moment, eyes narrowed. “No,” he growls then, voice so low and rough that Kei flinches back. He doesn’t really sound—human anymore. “Nothing outside smelled of demon. It’s gotta be in here. Hiding. Probably cloaked.”

“Oooh?” Oikawa drawls, delighted. “If that’s the case, we can fix that.” He goes to rummage in his bag again, and pulls out a strange device. Kei is practically standing right next to him, so he can get a good look, but he can’t make sense of it. Again he curses himself for not ever learning more about magic.

It’s a small stick that seems to be made of metal. Right in the middle of it, there’s something engraved that looks like a small circle with a Latin letter ‘K’ in the middle.

Kei wonders what this thing is going to do. He’s a bit concerned about these two strange men and their accusations of demon summoning. Kei thinks, hazily, that it’s a serious crime. Like murder. Because the demons usually end up killing someone. There has been something about it in the news lately. He should probably watch the news more often.

But they’ll be fine. Right? They’re not actually lying. They didn’t summon anything, so whatever this strange contraption does, it will either have no effect or spot a potentially dangerous demon. No harm done, right?

Oikawa turns the thing around in his hands, muttering, “Where’s the stupid button on this—”

Akaashi yelps on the bed.

Kei startles, looking over. All he can see is Akaashi. _Only_ Akaashi.

Kuroo’s gone.

The next second, a small ball of black fur shoots towards them and darts between their legs, the wild jingling of a bell accompanying its dash towards their front door, and then it’s gone.

The smell hits Kei a moment later, something burnt with an iron tang, sharp enough to sting in his eyes.

Kyoutani growls, definitely inhuman now, and bellows, “It’s him!”

He pushes Oikawa aside and takes off running after the cat. Oikawa yells, almost drops his little device, and barely catches it before he follows.

Kei is left standing where he is, dumbfounded.

“What just happened?” Bokuto asks next to him, unsure. Concern is bleeding into his tone.

Akaashi is sitting on the bed with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open in shock. “I think—” he stutters out, “I think Kuroo was the demon they’re looking for.”

“What?” Bokuto yells. “No way!”

“The other guy just said Kuroo wasn’t a demon,” Kei points out, dumbly. He doesn’t know what else to say. He knows so little, but what he does know makes no sense. Kuroo isn’t a demon. He doesn’t look like one, and he isn’t dangerous or bloodthirsty.

Akaashi is slowly shaking his head, like he can’t really believe it himself. “I don’t—I don’t get it, either, but then why did he run just now? And the—the collar, if it was enchanted, then it could probably hide that he’s a demon. If that Kenma—if he summoned Kuroo—fuck, no. It’s actually making sense. It makes more sense than having a familiar that can turn human, if Kuroo was a demon and posing as one, but I don’t— _fuck_.”

Kei doesn’t think he’s ever heard Akaashi curse like that before.

It would be terribly unsettling, if Kei wasn’t already thrown for a loop.

If Kuroo is a demon—that means he was lying to them the whole time.

About how much? What is his goal? He’s definitely not that Kenma’s familiar. And it’s one thing to believe that this Kenma wouldn’t take his cat familiar with him, but a demon? Who summons a demon and then tells it to go hide with strangers?

While Kei is still reeling, Bokuto stares off into the distance and eventually runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he calls out. “Come on.”

Kei looks at him, not understanding, as Bokuto goes and puts on his shoes and jacket.

“Bo?” Akaashi calls and practically falls out of the bedroom. He looks uncharacteristically scared. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help Kuroo, what else?” Bokuto says, as if the last five minutes didn’t happen and they weren’t just informed that Kuroo is a demon who’s been lying to them for the past month.

“Bo, he’s—” Akaashi halts. “He’s not a familiar. He’s a _demon_. I—I hate to say this, but he—he could be dangerous.”

“Well, I’m not leaving him out there alone with those two weirdo cops,” Bokuto insists. “And I’m going to ask him what’s up!”

It’s a very mundane, reasonable plan of action. Too mundane for what has just happened, probably. Maybe that’s why it has Kei breaking out into hysterical snickering. Bokuto glares at him for that.

Akaashi looks like he wants to grab Bokuto and keep him inside. But then he sighs. “Fine. I’m coming with you.”

As he goes to put on his shoes, Kei follows silently. When Akaashi throws a confused look his way, he can only shrug. “I’m not going to be the only one staying here,” he mutters by way of explanation.

As if staying with the group is his only motivation for this.

As if he’s not seriously worried for what is happening outside.

“Akaashi,” Kei asks, as quietly as he can, while they race outside. “If Kuroo is a demon and they grab him, what will happen?”

Akaashi looks grim, even with his eyes still rimmed red. “Demons are seen as malicious by default. They’re not allowed near humans. They’ll—there’s no prison or anything like that. If Kuroo _is_ a demon, then he—he hid that, and he lied about it, and he was around humans for so long, that’s. That’s _serious_. I think. I’m—most likely, they’re going to deem him dangerous and then, they’ll exorcise him.” There’s a finality to his voice that sends a shiver down Kei’s spine.

Still, he has to know for sure. “What does that mean?”

Akaashi avoids his eyes. Kei can hear a small, barely concealed hitch in his breathing.

“It means they’re going to kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's kinda short, my bad. i promise the next one will make up for it.
> 
> now that i've personally fucked over my "update on fridays" schedule, i'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but it shouldn't be too long. probably. if it's too long, please just kick me


	13. Five Things Not To Do When Your Roommate Turns Out To Be A Literal Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just stared at my tags for like ten minutes because I try to keep them updated for the most important stuff, and this chapter is a bit on the action-side of things, and I was halfway to going for "canon-typical violence" as usual since there's a bit of scuffling but nothing really bad, and then I realized. There is no canon-typical violence in Haikyuu. What violence would there be? There is only the pain in my heart when a team loses a match because I always want _both_ of them to win.
> 
> My point is, we now leave the slife-of-life genre to go punch things. Just wanted to mention that.

Demon or not, Kuroo is not going to die today. 

Koutarou is going to make sure of it. 

Fuck those two guys for thinking they can just show up, accuse Kuroo of being a demon, and then drag him off to be _killed_. 

How can that even be legal? Kuroo is a person like anyone else Koutarou knows. Just with some extra parts, and those are cat parts. There is nothing evil or bad about him. Even if what those guys said is true and Kuroo is a demon, how can it be fair to kill him just because of that? 

Koutarou knows that demons are usually bad news. They have to be, or else Keiji wouldn’t have been so worried and shocked to find out that Kuroo is one. But still, Kuroo isn’t some dark or evil creature that needs to be taken out for the safety of everyone else. Koutarou is going to give those two assholes a piece of his mind. 

It’s easy to find them, at least. That Oikawa guy keeps yelling loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, and there are some loud, bellowing sounds every so often from their direction. 

Koutarou is running ahead of Keiji and Tsukki to find them, and maybe he shouldn’t be, maybe it would be smarter for them to stay together, but he can’t help himself. 

The way Kuroo ran off, the way Keiji bit his lip and went pale—this is really bad news. Koutarou can feel it. 

He follows another yell of “There, Kyouken-chan, on your left!” and rounds a corner, almost barreling into Oikawa. 

He expects to see the other guy, Kyoutani, close by. Instead there is a giant dog, easily the size of a bear, leaning against a tree and barking up at the leaves. The tree is creaking ominously under the weight and force of it. 

Koutarou’s worry increases tenfold. He doesn’t want to know what will happen if that giant dog thing, with teeth larger than Koutarou’s hands, gets a hold of the small black cat that Koutarou got used to carrying around on his shoulders. Hell, even if Kuroo turned back to someone mostly human, that beast could easily rip him apart. 

Are they even sure that Kuroo ran because he was guilty of being a demon? If Koutarou was a cat spirit, he would run from a dog of that size, too. He kind of wants to run _now_. 

But there’s no way he’s going to leave Kuroo behind. 

“Hey, you!” Koutarou yells at Oikawa, grabbing the guy’s shoulders before he can scurry off. “Call that fucking thing off before it kills Kuroo!” 

Oikawa pushes at his hands, but Koutarou holds on tight. “Kyoutani won’t kill him, calm down. We do have to bring the demon in alive.” 

“What, so you can kill him later?” Koutarou is fuming. He heard what Keiji said earlier. 

Oikawa shrugs. “That’s not in my hands. I just have to bring him in before he hurts someone.” 

“He’s not dangerous!” Koutarou shouts, shaking the guy for good measure. Fuck him and his glib attitude. If he’s not going to listen, Koutarou will try his luck with the bear dog. 

The tree is tilting dangerously by now, roots breaking through the ground and sticking up into the air. The dog—Kyoutani, whoever, maybe that guy can shift like Kuroo can?—is barking up a storm and biting at the leaves where Kuroo is hopefully still hiding well enough. 

“Hey, you!” Koutarou yells, running up behind it. The dog doesn’t spare him so much as a glance, so Koutarou yells again and waves his arms around. “Hey!” 

“Bo, stop!” he hears Keiji call out behind him. He and Tsukki are just rounding the corner, and Keiji looks terrified. 

Koutarou can understand that it’s maybe unsettling to see him trying to get the attention of this monstrous dog, but Keiji will have to understand. Koutarou has a better chance against that thing than Kuroo, wherever he’s hiding. 

“Could you people just get back, please?” Oikawa calls out, sounding fed up. “We’re trying to arrest a demon here. That’s a good thing for you!” 

“Really? Looks to me like your dog is about to eat our cat,” Tsukki grunts none-too-kindly, with a pointed look at what is happening. 

Oikawa groans in frustration. “You are insufferable! How did that demon get three such loyal idiots—ugh, it’s probably an incubus. _Of course_ I got stuck with a fucking—that’s why he got three hot guys into his bed. I should have known. Hell. I’ll un-spell you guys later or whatever, just let me handle this.” 

“We’re not spelled!” Keiji protests. “You would have noticed! Your inugami definitely would have! Can’t we just—talk about this, before someone gets hurt?” 

In that moment, the tree shudders beneath the dog’s weight with an ear-splitting groan. Almost in slow-motion, it tilts to the ground, twigs and dirt spraying everywhere. With a growl, the dog jumps up to the upper leaves and branches, giant teeth snapping at everything that moves. 

“Kuroo!” Koutarou yells, panicked, racing towards the fallen tree. He can hear Keiji and Tsukki yelling, too. It’s a faint sound, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. 

That thing is going to fucking kill Kuroo at this rate. Koutarou is a little terrified that any moment now, the dog will have something limp and bloody between its teeth. 

But then, to his immense relief, a small ball of fuzzy, black fur shoots out of the leafage, rushing straight past Koutarou’s legs like it’s being chased by the devil himself. It’s being chased by a large dog monster, which Koutarou thinks qualifies as being equally terrifying. 

Koutarou turns on his heel to follow. If he can just get Kuroo in his arms, then—He’s not sure what, exactly. Maybe that stupid dog will finally back off when Kuroo stops running. It can’t just eat Kuroo _and_ Koutarou, because that definitely can’t be legal, Koutarou thinks. He hasn’t really thought out the finer details of his plan yet. That will have to happen once Kuroo is no longer in so much danger. 

Koutarou races after Kuroo, but in a matter of seconds the giant dog barrels past him with a loud howl. Koutarou tries to keep up, at least, but the dog has long legs and it’s passes him easily— 

And in that moment, something seems wrong. 

Very, very wrong. 

Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night, suddenly everything is lit up a bright blue. Koutarou’s skin is prickling, hairs and feathers on his arms standing on end as if the very air around him is filled with static. There’s a strange taste in the air, sweet like bubblegum and fizzy like soda, with the suspicious tang of magic to it. 

It’s all happening so fast, no more than the fraction of a second, and Koutarou is still in the process of turning his head as he’s running—Oikawa is glowing like a floodlight, and in that moment lines of sparkling blue light shoot from his hands at— 

Straight at Koutarou. 

“Oh shit—” he hears Oikawa yelling, and over that Keiji’s desperate cry of “Kou!” 

The rest gets drowned out by the crackle of light shooting towards him. 

Koutarou tries to stop, tries to change directions, but it’s so _fast_ — 

He’s thrown back by the sheer force of it. A loud ringing sounds in his ears. 

Koutarou skids over the asphalt before he manages to stop himself. His heart is hammering in his chest like mad, but he’s— 

He’s fine. Surprisingly. 

He looks up. 

Forgets to breathe. 

Kuroo is in front of him. 

Koutarou can only see his back, shifted back into the mostly human form, and Koutarou’s first, mad thought is—how good that Kuroo is wearing pants this time. 

Then he notices the slight shake of Kuroo’s legs, the burnt, scorched smell in the air. His heart stops short. 

Kuroo just took that blow. 

Kuroo just took that blow for _him_. 

Stiffly, Kuroo glances back at him with wide eyes. “Bo—” 

He doesn’t get any further than that before the giant dog is on him, pushing him down to the gravel face first. A paw comes down on his back, completely covering it and then some, teeth and claws larger than Kuroo’s head hovering over his neck. 

“Kuroo!” Koutarou stumbles to his feet on shaking legs. 

He makes it only a few steps before Keiji is barreling into him, throwing them both down. 

“What—” Koutarou gasps out before he hears Keiji muttering. It sounds like he’s casting a spell. What, Koutarou has no clue. 

He’s not injured and he doesn’t think Keiji knows any healing spells. But Keiji is so frantically clutching Koutarou’s face in his hands that one could think Koutarou is dying in his arms. The tell-tale prickle of his own magic rises beneath his skin, and Koutarou is shocked to realize that Keiji is drawing it out of him. 

Keiji used Koutarou's magic exactly four times. And he has _always_ asked before. 

Something is driving Keiji to skip that right now, to keep muttering, even though he’s pale and clammy and obviously overexerting himself. It worries Koutarou deeply, but he knows that if he asks, Keiji won’t be able to answer. 

It’s not the most pressing problem, even—Keiji is lying half in his lap and won’t let him move. That means Koutarou is forced to sit on the street and watch as that giant dog is keeping Kuroo pinned to the ground just a few feet away from them. 

Oikawa and Tsukki are running over to them. Tsukki looks like he’s just watched a horror movie he’s not old enough for yet. Oikawa looks delighted. 

“Yay! You caught him!” 

“Le’me go, you asshole!” Kuroo grunts out, sounding winded and somewhat pained. But alive. Koutarou could cry from relief. 

Is Kuroo hurt from protecting him? Is it bad? 

“Tsukki, do something!” Koutarou calls out, because frustratingly, Keiji is still casting and won’t let him move. 

Tsukki turns to him with the most helpless expression Koutarou has ever seen on his face. 

“Finally got you now, demon,” Oikawa drawls, sounding very satisfied as he crouches down in front of Kuroo to look at him. “Are you going to be nice and tell us who summoned you? Was it one of these three here?” 

Koutarou can’t tell for sure, but he thinks that Keiji is going a shade paler in front of him. If Koutarou remembers it right, summoning a demon is a seriously bad accusation. That, and maybe Keiji is about to pass out from whatever weird, convoluted spell he’s stringing together. 

“Fuck you,” Kuroo spits out. “I wasn’t summoned, I was born! I’m part human! I have _rights_!” 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Oikawa tuts, shaking his finger in the most condescending way. “You want me to believe that you ran away even though you’re not a demon?” 

“He obviously isn’t!” Tsukki throws in, sounding a little shaky but still loud enough to be heard. Koutarou would hug him, if he could only move. Angrily, Tsukki gestures at Kuroo. “Look at him! He’s obviously not a demon. Your—colleague even said so!” 

Oikawa clicks his teeth. “Is that the game you guys want to play?” He digs into his bag and pulls out the same small metal stick that Koutarou has seen before in their apartment. “Let’s play then,” Oikawa hums with a dark smile and presses something on it. There’s a quiet ‘click’. 

For the first second, Koutarou thinks—great. Kuroo is not a demon. Nothing is happening. They can clear this up now. 

But then there’s a small, muffled grunt from Kuroo. He’s trembling, lips pressed tightly together. 

“There we go,” Oikawa sighs happily. 

And Kuroo _wails_. 

It has Koutarou’s hairs standing on end. The bell at Kuroo’s collar is ringing up a storm, louder and faster and higher until it’s just one shrill sound. And then it splinters apart. 

The noise that left Kuroo is still ringing in Koutarou’s ears even moments after it’s gone. He can see tears building in Keiji’s eyes, but Keiji is _still_ muttering. 

When Koutarou looks back to Kuroo, something is different. Missing. 

His ears are gone. 

The cat ones. 

Now there are smaller ears instead, the same color as his face, similar to human ones but long and pointed. Two small, red horns stick out from Kuroo’s hair. The smell from earlier tonight, bitter like blood and something burnt to ash, sits heavy at the back of Koutarou’s throat. 

It’s not _much_ of a difference. But Koutarou is pretty sure they’re in deep shit now. 

“So much for you not being a demon,” Oikawa practically sings, grabbing a fistful of Kuroo’s hair and pulling his head up. 

Kuroo groans weakly. He looks out of it. 

Koutarou burns with the need to move. To help. Oikawa shouldn’t be touching Kuroo, pulling him around like that. 

“So, let’s try this again,” Oikawa says with a sharp smirk. “We both know you can’t hide like this without help. Someone _not_ a demon enchanted that thing for you to help you blend in, and whoever they are, they’re in deep trouble. But that’s on them, not on you. _You_ can make things much better for yourself by telling us who smuggled a demon into this city. Now will you tell me which one of these three here it was, hm?” 

“Fuck you,” Kuroo grunts out weakly. His eyes are bloodshot. He looks as close to tears as Keiji. 

Koutarou realizes, belatedly, that if this Kenma guy is dead—the collar and bell were the last things Kuroo had of him. And now the bell is broken. 

This Kenma—he has to be the one who enchanted it. No doubt about it. 

Koutarou doesn’t think that Kuroo will tell Oikawa that. Oikawa doesn’t seem to have a clue about Kenma. He's more intent on suspecting _them_. 

Koutarou really hopes that Kuroo won’t throw one of them under the bus to keep Kenma out of this. He doesn’t think that Kuroo would do that, but—but. There’s a very persistent, niggling bit of doubt building in his heart. 

“I see, I see, you want to be difficult about it,” Oikawa mutters, sounding a little annoyed now. His other hand moves down to Kuroo’s throat, and Koutarou startles at the same time as Kuroo does, when he realizes that Oikawa is taking the collar off. 

“No, stop it, leave that alone, don’t—” Kuroo protests, thrashing underneath the giant paw holding him down. The dog leans down closer to his throat and growls dangerously. 

“Don’t touch that!” Tsukki gasps out, stepping closer. He stops when Oikawa triumphantly holds up the red leather band. 

He gives Tsukki a very sharp look, saccharine smile not hiding the leer underneath. “Oh, is that yours, then? No need to answer, we’ll know for sure in a moment. Or do you want to confess to bringing this demon here?” 

“I didn’t—” Tsukki argues, trying to snatch the collar from Oikawa. 

Oikawa pulls it away with an imperious smirk. He mutters a short spell, nothing at all like that monster spell that Keiji is still weaving together. 

Koutarou wants to get up and help so badly. His only solace is the way Oikawa’s expression sours a moment later. 

“Hm, that’s odd,” Oikawa mutters, leaning back down to Kuroo. “This seems to belong to you, demon. Makes it hard to find your master. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who it is? I have a great candidate right here.” 

“Fuck you,” Kuroo hisses, raising his head just so he can glare at Oikawa. “If you think that any of these buffoons summoned me or hid me, you’re really fucking stupid! Do they look like masterminds hiding a demon to you?” 

Ouch. That was mean. 

Oikawa’s considering hum is just as mean, as is the thoughtful, dismissive look he gives all of them. “You’re right, they do seem a little out of their element with all of this.” 

Oh, well. At least now they’re not accused of a major crime anymore. But then Oikawa’s smile grows into something very sharp and dangerous. 

“Is that you confessing to acting on your own free will then? You know that demons who aren’t under control need to be exorcised, right?” 

Koutarou’s breath stutters in his lungs. No way— 

Kuroo looks pale, even as his lips pull into a sharp-toothed grin that has Koutarou’s blood freezing in his veins. “Damn right I’m acting on my own free will! You think I’d let anyone boss me around?” 

“Oh, I see,” Oikawa drawls. He pulls Kuroo up by his hair again, leaning down until their noses are almost touching. “So what, you killed your former master and made off with all of these useful trinkets? Thought you’d have some fun seducing innocent people before you joined the killing spree of your friends?” 

Koutarou is close to just shoving Keiji off his lap. Whatever spell Keiji is trying to do, it’s taking too long and it can’t be as important as literally saving Kuroo’s life. 

This Oikawa thinks that Kuroo is some kind of monster, and to Koutarou’s absolute horror, Kuroo has stopped denying it. 

He’s just glaring back at Oikawa with that slightly manic grin of his, drawling, “I’m actually very firmly on the seduction side of things. Not into the whole murder stuff.” 

Oikawa’s answering grin is just as wide and mirthless as Kuroo’s. “I think we’re quite done here. I hope you’ll enjoy your last hours. Do try to think of something useful you could tell me about your demon buddies, maybe then I’ll save your neck.” 

“Won’t happen,” Kuroo hisses pointedly, and Oikawa lets his head drop. Koutarou winces as Kuroo’s chin hits the asphalt with a crack. 

“You can’t take him!” Koutarou calls out, beginning to panic. He makes a move to get up, but Keiji squeezes his face painfully tight, breath hitching and the words in his spell coming out like sobs. Keiji frantically shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears. 

Koutarou fights with himself. In the end, he stays put. 

“You can’t take Kuroo,” Tsukki speaks up, luckily enough, standing tall in Oikawa’s way. “He’s—you’re saying he has to be under control, right?” 

“It would be one thing if he was,” Oikawa hums with a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. “But he’s not.” 

“ _I_ have him under control,” Tsukki says, bold and stubborn. He pushes his chin out. Koutarou can see how tightly his fists are clenched at his sides, knuckles white and shoulders trembling slightly. 

“Oh?” Oikawa asks, his eyes narrowing ominously. 

Kuroo squirms beneath the bear dog, unheeding of the way the beast is growling at him. “Tsukki, no! Don’t say stupid shit!” His wide eyes find Oikawa, something scared and frantic taking hold in his expression. “Don’t listen to him! He’s out of it, he’d say just about anything right now—” 

Tsukki doesn’t acknowledge him and neither does Oikawa, who is prowling towards Tsukki like a predator on the hunt. Tsukki doesn’t waver when Oikawa steps up to him and pokes his chest with a dangerous smile. “So you admit to hiding a demon in a populated area? My, my.” 

Tsukki doesn’t even blink. “I do not,” he states calmly. “I had no idea he was a demon until you told us. But I _do_ have him under control. Which I believe means that you are free to leave Kuroo alone.” 

Oikawa stares at him very intently. Then he laughs. It’s not a nice sound. “It’s very bold what you’re trying to pull here, I have to give you that,” he chuckles coldly. “Trying to keep your pet demon without admitting to it. You might even be right and this is just a harmless incubus. But I’d be very stupid to let you keep him, now, wouldn’t I? If anything happens, it will be my head that rolls. Letting a demon run free after months of them attacking people—no, I don’t think so.” 

“So what, you’ll kill him just to be safe?” Koutarou bursts out, chest painfully tight. He can’t believe it. 

But Oikawa’s nonchalant shrug says something else. “I’m sorry, guys,” he hums, not sounding apologetic in the least. “You picked the wrong political climate for your little tryst—” 

“Oikawa, what is taking you so long?” someone cuts him off gruffly. 

Koutarou wants to be relieved for all of three seconds when two new people hurry towards them. 

One of them, the one that spoke, is glaring very firmly at Oikawa, black hair cut short, clothes simple and practical. His companion is not quite as inspiring, his fluffy brown hair too much like Oikawa’s for Koutarou’s liking. Then they both notice Kuroo. 

“At least you caught the demon,” the short-haired guy sighs, and Koutarou’s heart sinks. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whines. He sounds like a petulant child. One that wants to murder Kuroo even though, as far as Koutarou heard it, he doesn’t even _have_ to. If he wanted to, he could just let Kuroo go. 

The second Keiji is done with this crazy spell, Koutarou is going to fucking deck him. 

“It’s not my fault it’s taking so long!” Oikawa complains, gesturing at them. “The demon got himself a harem and now they won’t stop bothering me! But Kyouken-chan and I still caught him. Think I’ll get a promotion this time?” 

“Just take him and let’s go," Iwa-chan, apparently, grunts. He gives Oikawa a glare and then plucks the small metal stick from his hands, clicking it off. “And don’t just leave this running.” 

Kuroo whines pitifully. Koutarou’s gut clenches in painful sympathy at the sound. 

The strange horns and ears fade, and Kuroo’s usual fuzzy cat ears slip back into place. 

The new guy raises a brow and looks down at him. “This one part spirit or something?” 

Oikawa shrugs. “Maybe. Kyouken-chan said earlier that he’s got some cat spirit and human mixed in. But he’s still demonic enough to react to this little thing, so it’s not like it matters.” 

Fuck him. Fuck them all. They’re seriously trying to kill Kuroo over something like _that_? 

“You can’t take him!” Tsukki insists again. “He’s not dangerous!” 

“Don’t you watch the news, kid?” the Iwa guy asks gruffly. “Demons are on a fucking rampage right now.” 

“Right, right!” Oikawa backs him up. 

Iwa-something sighs. “This has taken long enough. Yahaba, get some spells and cuffs on him. We’re leaving.” 

Koutarou’s body goes very cold. 

They can’t take Kuroo— 

They can’t kill him. 

He did _nothing_ wrong. 

But the guy’s companion is moving towards Kuroo, who’s still pinned on the ground, and the gruff guy is shoving Tsukki aside like it’s nothing. 

Koutarou can’t breathe. He can’t— 

It’s all over now. 

In that moment, Keiji stops chanting. 

He pushes himself out of Koutarou’s lap with so much force that Koutarou almost falls back, but Koutarou is on his feet and right behind Keiji a moment later. 

Keiji doesn’t hesitate about getting right into Oikawa’s face, glaring as fiercely as Koutarou has ever seen him. “You are not taking Kuroo anywhere!” he hisses, every word pointed and sharp as a knife, as he jabs his finger into Oikawa’s chest. 

“We’ve been over this,” Oikawa starts. “He’s not—” 

Keiji doesn’t let him finish. “You’re saying that this is an uncontrolled demon?” he asks sharply, glaring until Oikawa nods. 

“Yes, obv—” 

“So you had _no reason_ to believe he would step in when your spell went the wrong way?” Keiji follows up, leaning forward until Oikawa is stepping back and raising his hands defensively. 

“Hey, now, I wasn’t—” 

Again, Keiji doesn’t let him finish. He whirls around to look at Oikawa’s dark-haired companion. “What’s your name?” 

The man also takes a step back. He sends a suspicious glance Oikawa’s way. “Iwaizumi. Listen, sir, if my colleague did something to upset you, you are welcome to come to the coven and file a complaint—” 

“To the coven!” Keiji exclaims, like it’s the most ridiculous, offensive thing he’s heard in his life. His eyes narrow dangerously as he rounds in on the man. “Listen, Iwaizumi-san,” he hisses, low and absolutely furious. “You take this _allegedly_ uncontrolled demon, and I will _end_ Oikawa and your inugami and _you_. Your _colleague_ not only failed to protect civilians, he missed aim with a dangerous offensive spell and instead let it loose on an unprotected man!” 

Iwaizumi glances at Oikawa again. Oikawa shrugs and mouths something. Iwaizumi clears his throat. “That’s a very serious accusation to make. If you can prove your claim,” he says it like there is no way that Keiji ever could, and Koutarou is afraid there really isn’t, “we’ll be taking appropriate measures. Still, my colleague determined this demon to be dangerous, and I share his opinion, so it’s the only reasonable thing we can do to take him into custody.” 

“Oh no,” Keiji says, very coldly. “You’re not getting me.” He takes a deep breath, and then calls out, “ _Re-Memorize_.” 

The word tingles in Koutarou’s ears. That’s definitely a spell. A big one. 

The dim light of the street flickers, and then, to his shock, Koutarou sees himself. 

A washed out version of himself. Running after Kuroo’s fluffy cat-form, the dog next to him. Similar shapes of Oikawa, Keiji, and Tsukki stand down the street. 

They all watch, breathless, as things begin moving in slow-motion. How Oikawa raises his spell. How Koutarou appears in Oikawa’s line of sight behind the dog, and the spell shoots off towards the unexpected movement, instead of at Kuroo. They watch, as moments before the burst of light and fizzling electricity hit Koutarou, the black cat changes directions, slips into the form of a man and in one smooth jump gets in front of Koutarou. Like this, Koutarou can see the bell on the collar bounce, raising a small shield in front of Kuroo that takes most of the attack, only small bursts slipping past it and grazing Kuroo’s legs. The scene ends just when the dog barrels into Kuroo, throwing him down where he’s lying now. 

“ _That_ ,” Keiji hisses sharply, imperiously, “should be sufficient proof of your colleague’s actions. He almost _incinerated_ a part tengu, part human civilian. That spell was too strong to be activated in this area in the first place! If the alleged demon was as uncontrolled as you claim, Bokuto would be severely injured. That’s the end for your colleague’s career if taken to public, and it’s also definite proof that we know exactly how to keep this alleged demon in line.” 

Judging by the sour look on Iwaizumi’s face, Keiji is hitting a nerve. “Look, this is all very convincing, but we’ll have to take this to the appropriate places. If you’re right, then a committee will allow the demon to walk free. We still have to take him into custody for now.” 

Koutarou’s heart sinks. He knows that Kuroo really wants to go looking for his friend as soon as possible. And it all kind of sounds like they could still decide to kill Kuroo if things go wrong. 

And beyond all that, something seems _off_ about this Iwaizumi guy. He keeps finding new reasons why they have to take Kuroo in, and so does Oikawa. It’s like they don’t even care if Kuroo is a danger or not. Like they just want to grab him no matter what. 

“You expect me to wait that long?” Keiji asks, his voice full of disbelief. “I’ll go straight to the Head Mage with this. I’ll go to the tengu ambassador, too. I will make all of your careers _burn_ to the ground.” 

Oikawa’s brows shoot up. “Oh really? You think annoying the Head Mage or the tengu with this will be _faster_ than letting us rightly determine if this demon is dangerous?” 

Keiji’s eyes, impossibly, narrow further. “You think the Head Mage and the tengu won’t listen to an Akaashi?” he hisses sharply. 

It’s Keiji’s least favorite card to play, which means it has to be his last. Koutarou finds Keiji’s hand and squeezes it. Keiji’s skin is cold and clammy, fingers trembling non-stop. After the enormous spell he just pulled off, Koutarou can only guess at how close he has to be to keeling over. But he’s still holding up, for now. For Kuroo. 

And now, at last, they seem to be getting somewhere. 

Iwaizumi rears back. “Akaashi?” he asks, sounding unsure for the first time. “As in, the Akaashis of the city temple?” 

“Yes, those Akaashis,” Keiji presses out, smooth and cold as ice, lips stretched wide in a terrifying smile that’s masking everything else. 

Iwaizumi turns, rounding on Oikawa with a sharp glare. “An Akaashi?” he hisses under his breath, hitting Oikawa on the back of his head. Koutarou thinks he’s trying to be quiet, but they can hear every word. “Are you _mad_? You get a sure job, and you go attacking an Akaashi and a tengu? Are you trying to get us all _fired_?” 

It’s working. 

Koutarou can hardly dare to believe it. It’s actually working—the Akaashi family name more so than the absolutely incredibly spell Keiji cooked up, but with Kuroo’s life on the line, Koutarou will take what he can get. 

“Ow, Iwa-chan! Mean!” Oikawa whines, trying to duck away from his partner’s jabs at him and failing. 

“Fuck,” Tsukki breathes, sounding shaky. He squeezes Keiji’s shoulder. Keiji throws a thin smile his way. 

“So, do we—do we take the demon or—?” Yahaba asks and trails off, looking around between them. 

Iwaizumi stops shoving Oikawa around and straightens up. “I—” He clears his throat. “I believe—given the proof you provided of controlling the demon, and your magical knowledge—we can make an exception and leave the demon in your care. In that case, all responsibility for any harm he may cause will lie with you. We can arrange for that. If you agree to drop your—complaints, in turn, of course.” 

Keiji inclines his head ever so slightly. “Fine,” he says. “I want that in writing. Magic-proof and signed by all of you.” 

Iwaizumi's expression does something funny, like Keiji has just told him to scrub toilets with his toothbrush. “I’ll—see to it,” he grunts out. 

Koutarou doesn’t actually breathe freely again until Keiji, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa have drawn up some sheet of paper, all scribbled something on it, Keiji has told them to never come back in no uncertain terms, and then finally, finally, the damn dog has taken its paws off Kuroo and turned back into a very grumpy guy in pajamas. 

The four men scurry off, Iwaizumi cursing and hissing at Oikawa the whole way until they’re out of sight. 

They are left alone. 

“Fuck,” Kuroo whispers, hoarse and choked up. 

Keiji falls down to his knees beside him, shaking like a leaf. He sucks in a shuddering breath. Koutarou is scared that Keiji is going to pass out now. 

He's feeling a little bit faint himself. And Tsukki is pale, too. 

“Fuck, _Akaashi_ —” Kuroo presses out, twisting his head to look at Keiji even as he curls up into a ball on the gravel. “You just saved my fucking life.” 

Keiji wheezes out a sound that’s maybe a whimper. 

“Fuck,” Kuroo says again. He squirms around, and Koutarou is a little scared that he’s too hurt to get up. He really should get off the ground. Unlike the rest of them, Kuroo doesn’t have a jacket or shoes or even a shirt. He never put one on after he kissed Tsukki and took it off. He’s wearing his pants at least, and now that he has the time to think about it, Koutarou is really glad that Kuroo isn’t completely naked like the first time he turned mostly human, even though it’s weird. Koutarou doesn’t understand why it’s different now—but it’s better than being naked. 

Still too cold, though. And Kuroo is still not moving to get up. 

“Kuroo, are you alright?” Koutarou asks, kneeling down next to him. 

“I don’t know. I think I’m going to pass out. Or throw up. Maybe both. I’m trying to remember how to get into the recovery position,” Kuroo says, sounding slightly hysterical. Koutarou is feeling much the same. 

Tsukki plops down next to them. Just sits down on the street, even though it’s cold as fuck. “What the hell just happened?” he asks, eyes wide and sounding numb. 

Keiji is sucking in small breathes. Koutarou pulls him into his arms. Keiji is still trembling and terribly cold. “I—” Keiji starts, and promptly starts coughing. Koutarou rubs his back. “I can’t believe that fucking worked.” 

“No, really,” Tsukki insists. “What happened? Kuroo is safe now, right?” He looks down at Kuroo and pets his ears. 

“I think after what just happened, I should start calling you ‘master’ now,” Kuroo purrs, scratchy and thin, and not nearly as sexy as he probably wants to sound. 

Tsukki glares at him. “Don’t give me that. Are you really a demon?” 

Kuroo is quiet for a long moment. But Tsukki doesn’t stop glaring. Waiting. 

“I’m like. One fourth demon,” Kuroo mutters quietly. “And one fourth human. I think. My mom was a cat spirit. Didn’t get to meet my dad.” His lips quirk up into a small, shaky, crooked smile. “Grandma Kuroo just liked to live her best life, you know? Guess it runs in the family.” He’s not looking at any of them, turning his face down into the asphalt instead. A hitched little sound comes from him, shaking his shoulders. His tail wraps around his middle. “Fuck,” Kuroo whimpers. “Fuck, I didn’t think—we got so lucky. I can’t believe it. You guys—I thought they would—” 

Tsukki tries to hug him, and Koutarou makes his own attempt. It ends with all of them sort of leaning against Kuroo, arms thrown over him and patting him gently. They have to be a very strange-looking heap of people. Out on the street. In the middle of the night. In November. 

Koutarou should really try to get them home. But his legs don’t feel steady right now and he doesn’t think any of them are in the right condition to find their way back in the darkness. 

Did anyone close the apartment door when they left? 

“We’ve got you,” Koutarou mumbles quietly, and Tsukki muffles something similar into the back of Kuroo’s neck. Kuroo’s throat is long and pale, without the line of red leather on it. 

Kuroo is shaking for a while longer, but at least Keiji seems to find some life again in Koutarou’s arms. He blinks tiredly. Then reaches out to rub his hand over Kuroo’s hip. His other hand is clutching the piece of paper they got in a death grip. A small sound leaves him, and Koutarou can’t tell for sure if it’s a laugh or a sob. 

“Keiji?” Koutarou asks, worried. 

Keiji shakes his head. When he turns to look at Koutarou, his eyes are wide and a little hysterical, added to by his shaky smile and the threat of building tears. “My family is going to have my fucking head,” he wheezes out. 

Koutarou pulls him tight against his chest and squeezes him until he’s wheezing. “Fuck your family,” he grunts. 

Keiji gasps out his maybe-sob maybe-laugh again, muffled this time. 

“So, that’s a ‘No’ to sending them a gift basket for being important enough to save my life, then?” Kuroo asks jokingly. His smile is thin and not very convincing. 

Keiji raises his head from Koutarou’s shoulder, looking at both Kuroo and Tsukki. 

“You really shouldn’t,” he mutters flatly. “They—they kicked me out when I told them I was seeing Bokuto.” 

Bokuto’s breath stills in his lungs. 

The way his family treated him back then has ripped a deep wound into Keiji’s heart. Koutarou assumed that Keiji maybe told his therapist about it, but aside from that, Koutarou has never heard Keiji speak a single word about what happened. 

It wasn’t as clean-cut as Keiji is making it sound. His parents didn’t like it that Keiji was seeing him, but that wasn’t then things got ugly. That happened only after they made Keiji choose, and Keiji chose Koutarou. 

Over his family. Over his future. Over his un-bonded familiar. 

Sometimes Koutarou wonders if Keiji didn’t give up too much for him. 

Although it wasn’t just him that Keiji chose. Keiji always says that he chose to be _himself_. Chose that he would not change or hide. That was what really infuriated the rest of his family. 

“Your family sounds like a bunch of assholes,” Tsukki mutters quietly. 

It startles a chuckle out of Keiji, and Koutarou is more than relieved to hear that sound right now. 

“They kind of are,” Keiji agrees, curling closer towards him. “Very traditional. They’ve been leading the city’s main temple for centuries. Everyone with magic in the city knows to respect the Akaashis.” He sighs, and the smile on his face gets wide in a way that’s unsettling. “They’re going to throw a fit when they hear that I used their name to keep a _demon_. They’ll—holy shit. They’ll be so angry. But they were so thorough about kicking me out, I don’t—I don’t think there’s anything left they can _do_ to me.” 

Kuroo shifts slightly, his fuzzy tail brushing against Keiji’s arm and face. “If you want to,” he says with a grin that’s small but beginning to look real to Koutarou, “I am totally ready to offend them to their core. We can go to the temple and show them what a terrible creature their son has leashed to his side. Really rub it into their faces.” 

“Heavens, Kuroo,” Keiji wheezes out, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Don’t even think about it! I didn’t get you a ‘get out of jail free’ card. This is just that they can’t arrest you so long as you are visibly not a danger to anyone. You have to be on your best behavior, okay?” 

“Ugh, fine,” Kuroo grumbles. He playfully flicks his tail over Keiji’s nose, until Koutarou can hear Keiji’s snicker from behind the long fur. “I’ll be good and listen to you, _master_.” 

“You keep saying that word, and I will start thinking you’re into it,” Tsukki mutters dryly, patting Kuroo’s head. 

“Well, maybe I am,” Kuroo teases. 

Tsukki looks—a little intrigued, maybe. Stares at Kuroo very intently for a moment, before he flicks Kuroo’s ear with a finger and adjusts his glasses. “Thank you for getting Kuroo out of that mess,” he murmurs then, expression uncharacteristically soft as he glances at Keiji. 

Koutarou thinks Keiji flushes a little. It makes him less pale. That’s good. 

“That,” Keiji says stiffly, “was dumb luck. The more I think about it, the more I can’t believe that it worked. If those guys had spent even ten seconds thinking about it, they would have realized that I’m the one disgraced Akaashi in this city that they really don’t need to worry about. And threatening them with going to the tengu was even more ridiculous. As if any tengu ever cared about anyone who’s not also full tengu.” 

“But they didn’t think,” Koutarou crows, both relieved and incredibly proud of what Keiji has managed. “You put the fear of the gods into them! It’s not on you that they were more impressed with your family name than with that giant spell you pulled off.” 

A thin laugh wheezes out of Keiji’s lungs. “Oh no, _that_ —I strung together every single memorizing spell I knew and somehow glued it together from your and my memories and—it would have blown apart in like five minutes. No way I could prove anything with that.” 

“Keiji,” Koutarou gasps out, shocked. “Were you bluffing the _entire_ thing?” 

Keiji’s smile comes out a little deranged. “Yes?” 

Kuroo makes a sound like someone just stepped on his tail. “What the fucking hell,” he croaks out. “Oh, fuck.” 

Keiji pats his hip some more. “I’m sorry, Kuroo. I wanted to do more, but I really don’t know much besides a few basic spells, and some for studying, and a ton of enchantments and wards. They teach the good stuff only to Akaashis who don’t flunk out at 18 with their not fully human boyfriends.” 

“You think I’m upset because of how you saved my life?” Kuroo wheezes out. “I’m just trying to put my head around the fact that this whole thing you pulled off was built on nothing but lies! You are one scary man, Akaashi.” 

“Uh, thanks?” Keiji mutters with a confused smile. He leans his head against Koutarou’s shoulder. His eyes find Koutarou’s. “Sorry for using your magic without asking, by the way. I just had this crazy idea and was casting before I knew it. It was really hard to pull it all together from memory. I know it drove you crazy that you couldn’t do anything.” 

“It’s fine,” Koutarou hums easily, running a hand through Keiji’s hair. “You did it to save Kuroo. And you can have my magic any time. We would be lost without you.” 

Keiji gently shakes his head. “I couldn’t have done it without you. It kind of only worked because you were jumping ahead into danger. And because Tsukki bought us time talking to that guy.” 

“Not that I got us anywhere,” Tsukki grumbles under his breath. 

“Hey,” Kuroo murmurs, “ _I_ was very impressed with how valiantly you were defending me.” 

“Thanks,” Tsukki mutters dryly. He pokes at Kuroo’s ear. “You should probably get off the ground before you catch your death.” 

Koutarou is really glad that Tsukki has apparently had the same thought as him. And the self-discipline to actually go through with it. Kuroo whines pathetically, but Tsukki keeps wheedling him until he gets to his feet, swaying slightly. He has to be freezing. 

Koutarou shrugs off his jacket and holds it out for him. Even with only a shirt he’s already shivering. They really should have gone home sooner. “Here.” 

Kuroo blinks at him slowly, before he takes it. “Thanks.” He’s very slow and stiff about putting it on. Koutarou sees a few scratches on his arms and chest, probably from being pushed down onto the gravel. 

“Come on,” Tsukki says. “Let’s go home.” 

Koutarou helps Keiji to his feet, who’s looking even less steady than Kuroo does. 

“It’s fine, I can walk,” Keiji mutters. He makes it two steps before he tilts over. Koutarou already has his arm out to catch him. 

Tsukki and Kuroo have to help him get a complaining Keiji on his back—apparently piggyback rides are _undignified_ —and in the end Koutarou shuts him down with, “I’m really cold, you help me stay warm like this.” 

Keiji pouts. “Fine,” he mutters, even though he has obviously seen through the lie. 

Before they start walking, Kuroo takes a few steps down the street and bends down. With shaky fingers, he grabs the red leather collar. His expression is grim as he looks down at it. 

Koutarou realizes he didn’t even notice when the collar was thrown away in the chaos. It wasn’t important to him at the time. 

But it’s very important to Kuroo. 

Kuroo wraps it around his throat, fingers pulling at it and fiddling with the clasp. 

“Fuck,” he curses after a moment. His voice cracks. 

Slowly, with shaking hands, he lets it sink again, clutching it tightly. 

“Do you need help with that?” Tsukki asks, a little unsure. 

Kuroo shakes his head, squeezing his eyes closed. “It’s not going to fit. Let’s go.” 

He stalks off. 

Tsukki and Koutarou exchange a confused glance before they follow him. They have to adjust their pace a little, with Koutarou carrying Keiji and none of them entirely sure which street they are on. It doesn’t help that it’s dark. 

Koutarou is a little confused about the collar. But he’s not sure that breaching the topic would be good idea right now, not so soon after Kuroo lost his connection to Kenma and the bell was destroyed. 

Tsukki seems to hold no such qualms. “What do you mean it doesn’t fit? It fit you before.” 

Kuroo doesn’t turn around to them. His steps don’t falter. “Kenma spelled it so that it would adjust in size,” he says tonelessly. “But I have to wear it for that to work, and I need to be a cat to put it on.” 

“Can’t you turn into a cat now?” Tsukki asks. 

“Kuroo was really cute as a cat,” Keiji mumbles. He’s maybe more out of it than Koutarou thought. But his grip on the paper is still firm. They might have to pry it out of his hand later. 

Kuroo’s ears droop a little. “I’ve already shifted too much. It’s all magic, and someone could find me if I used it more.” 

And Kenma told him to hide. Yup, Koutarou gets it. 

“What happened to the bell?” Tsukki keeps on asking. 

Koutarou shoots him a warning look. They really shouldn’t be prying into this too much right now. Tsukki shrugs at him. 

“Kenma enchanted it,” Kuroo says stiffly. “It hides my demonic magic when I’m not using it. That’s why the inugami earlier couldn’t smell me right away. And it’s a beacon, so Kenma can find me if he has to. And he put tons of protective spells on it. Saved me and Bokuto back there.” He stops walking. Stands still. “Won’t be doing that anymore.” 

Koutarou takes a few hasty steps to catch up to him, leaning against his side. Keiji throws out an arm and ruffles Kuroo’s hair. 

“I’m sorry you lost it,” Koutarou mutters. 

Kuroo shrugs. His lips are pressed into a tight, trembling line. 

Tsukki gently nudges his side. “Come on,” he says quietly. “You have to get some sleep, so we can go looking for Kenma in the morning.” 

Sucking in a wet, rattling breath, Kuroo rubs at his eyes. Then he nods. 

They do make it home eventually. Despite the fact that it’s very dark and all the houses look the same to Bokuto, Kuroo seems to know the way exactly. Maybe it’s his sense of smell. Maybe he just got really lost when he first came to them and knows the whole neighborhood now. Maybe it’s some magic stuff. Koutarou doesn’t know and doesn’t ask. 

Tsukki opens the apartment door and they all stumble inside, dead on their feet and frozen stiff. 

Koutarou catches Tsukki unhappily glancing into the direction of his room and Kuroo mustering the couch—and decides he’s not going to deal with that shit right now. 

He gently shuffles Keiji off his back and drapes him over Tsukki instead. “Can you get him into bed?” he asks. “I need to take a look at Kuroo’s scrapes.” 

Keiji, bless his heart, clutches on to a flabbergasted Tsukki and doesn’t let go. Koutarou is very relieved that Tsukki can try to make him let go of that sheet of paper now. “Les’go, Tsukki, I’m tired,” Keiji slurs, and Koutarou can’t help but snicker at Tsukki’s disgruntled expression. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Keiji call Tsukki by his nickname before. 

Keiji keeps mumbling, stuff about “we’ll make a hundred copies of this, everyone needs to have one,” and “we gotta buy some stuff, I’ll turn this place into a magic-proof fortress” while Tsukki is carefully dragging him off to Koutarou’s and Keiji’s shared bedroom, shooting Koutarou an impressive amount of helpless looks. 

Koutarou grins proudly and gives him a thumbs-up. 

That’s two problems solved. Leaving only the third. 

When Koutarou turns to Kuroo, Kuroo is giving him the most wide-eyed, mystified look. In his hand, he’s clutching the collar much the same way that Keiji was clutching the paper. 

Koutarou wordlessly grabs his other hand and leads him to the bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid while Koutarou pulls out their first aid kit. It’s not large, but it should do for what he’s seeing on Kuroo. 

Kuroo doesn’t speak a word as Koutarou gently turns him this way and that, cleaning out his scrapes and putting dinosaur band-aids over some of the deeper ones. To Koutarou’s immense relief, none of the wounds seem particularly bad. He kneels down to inspect Kuroo’s legs, but some singes on the pants seem to be the worst of it. 

Kuroo doesn’t say anything the whole time. Just stares silently off into the distance, golden eyes tired and filled with a deep worry. 

When he’s done checking Kuroo over, Koutarou straightens up and brushes a kiss against Kuroo’s temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

The surprised look Kuroo gives him makes something ache deep inside of Koutarou’s chest. The way Kuroo’s pretty golden eyes are all big and wide and stunned, with something very fragile beneath that. A bit of confusion, a bit of wonder, and a bit of—affection, maybe. It’s painful to watch, really, because Kuroo is looking at him as if— 

As if anything they did for him tonight was unusual. As if Kuroo didn’t expect some part of it. Didn’t expect them to come and help him. 

Koutarou herds him off to bed and makes sure that Kuroo ends up next to Keiji, who dutifully latches on to him. Koutarou puts the collar down on their bedside table, next to the very important paper that now guarantees Kuroo’s life and freedom. 

He slips under the covers next to Kuroo, curling an arm over his waist. Kuroo’s breaths are deep and even already. He must have still been very exhausted from that breakdown earlier tonight. 

Tsukki gives Koutarou a silent look from where he’s lying on Keiji’s other side. Koutarou has no clue how to answer with words. All he can do, after settling in, is tilt his palm up, open and waiting. 

He has to wait a long time. 

He’s almost asleep when he feels Tsukki’s hesitant fingers brush against his. Koutarou links their hands together, smiling contently. 

Sleep comes to him soon after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this chapter was "Group Of Idiots Accidentally Adopts Demon", but then I felt that it gave too much away at the start and went with something else.
> 
> Anyway I hope you had fun with this one because I certainly enjoyed writing it. I am fully aware that we don't know more about Kenma than we did two chapters ago, but don't you feel more at peace now? Hm?  
> If you don't, that's too bad for you, I guess. The next chapter is giving me some trouble because I had plans for how to segment it and then it got too long, as it always does, and now I need to figure that out. So just. Enjoy what you have now :')


	14. Magical Quests Just Not What They Used To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am starving and i still haven't done my daily workout but here we go anyway because as always i'm excited to get this out to you!!
> 
> i kind of want to say 'sorry for taking so long' but i realized that it's only been a week since the last update and it only feels like longer because i binge read all of the haikyuu manga that is not yet in the anime since then :')  
> don't want to give any spoilers in case anyone here hasn't read the manga yet (like, you know, me five days ago) but i cried and i wasn't prepared to think kenma is hot  
> also i would still die for these four idiots, my love for them has only increased ;u;

Keiji is dead on his feat the next day.

It’s no surprise. The spell he threw together, uncoordinated and messy as it was, ate up all of his magic and a good part of Koutarou’s, too. Really, it’s more of a surprise that he woke up to his alarm this morning instead of sleeping right through it.

He feels like he ran a marathon with no training. In a way, that’s what he did. His bones and muscles are heavy and there’s an insistent pounding behind his temples, reminding him painfully that he took more from his body than it had to give.

But that’s alright. It worked out in the end.

At least for now, Kuroo is safe. And Keiji is going to see to it that it stays that way.

When he makes it back home from his errant, he’s surprised to see all the bustle that is happening. He woke Tsukishima up early, but he expected Koutarou and Kuroo to sleep for longer.

They are all awake, though. Plates of food are lining their small living room table. Koutarou is digging in happily, Tsukishima is hanging in his chair like he’d rather be in bed, and Kuroo is currently carrying in another plate of something that smells fried and delicious. Keiji’s stomach grumbles to remind him that he skipped over breakfast earlier.

“Welcome home,” Kuroo sing-songs, ears perked up high. Keiji can’t help but think, in that first moment of seeing him, that Kuroo’s throat looks unexpectedly naked like this, without the collar. And Kuroo appears to be in much better spirits that Keiji anticipated. Keiji is not sure if he should be happy about that or worrying that Kuroo is bottling it all up inside. He still doesn’t know Kuroo well enough to tell these things and it irks him.

He puts away all of his heavy, warm winter gear and sits down. Kuroo floats out of the kitchen to hand him a plate and cutlery. “I made breakfast for you guys. You’re all out of vegetables now. You need to buy healthier food.”

“It’s delicious!” Koutarou claims, which Keiji is very much willing to believe as he heaps generous portions of various foods onto his plate. Just how long has Kuroo been awake and cooking already?

Kuroo leans over and nudges Tsukishima’s shoulder. “You need to eat something, Tsukki.”

“I already did,” Tsukishima groans. “I had two plates! You made too much.”

Kuroo’s ears do a rapid flick down and back up. “Just because I want you guys to be happy and healthy and full of energy today!”

Tsukishima makes a sound like he’s dying and sinks deeper into his armchair. “No.”

Kuroo sighs. His ears and tails won’t stop moving. His weight shifts from leg to leg. His fingers keep twitching. His eyes are a little red and have dark bags looming underneath.

Keiji hurries to take a bite of his fried eggs, just so he can tell Kuroo, “It’s very delicious. Thank you.”

“You like it? I’m glad,” Kuroo says. He smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Keiji shuffles a bit closer to Koutarou and pats the free space next to him. “Have you eaten yet? You should sit down with us.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No thanks, I’m good!” He doesn’t stop shifting around.

So it’s holding still that he’s avoiding, it seems. Taking a break. Thinking. Letting things set in.

If that’s what Kuroo needs to cope with this tense situation and the aftermath of last night, Keiji won’t stop him.

“I got copies of the certificate this morning,” he says instead, because it’s important and maybe it will be something Kuroo can focus on. “Officially acknowledged, magic-proof, and everything. We should make sure we all have one on us, just in case we get separated and something happens.”

“That’s really smart,” Koutarou agrees with an enthusiastic nod. He shoots Kuroo a conspiratorial grin. “We won’t let the cops take you.”

“They were coven mages,” Keiji corrects quietly.

Across from them, Tsukishima cracks one eye open. “I got you all the stuff you asked for. Can’t believe you made me get up so early.”

“I wasn’t about to send Kuroo or Bokuto to my family’s temple,” Keiji mutters. “Thanks for going.”

“What?” Koutarou squawks. He whirls around so fast that he almost sends his plate flying. “Why’d you send Tsukki _there_?”

“I thought we disliked the rest of the Akaashis,” Kuroo says, confused. He’s finally stopped moving around so much. Keiji pats the spot next to him again, and Kuroo at least settles down on the armrest. Keiji will take it.

“I asked Tsukishima to get me some stuff for wards,” Keiji explains quietly. “The next time any mages or spirits show up, I don’t want them to be able to just waltz in here and throw their magic around. And I only know the things from the temple, so—” he trails off, a little helpless, and shrugs. “They don’t know Tsukishima, so I figured it would be fine.”

“It was way too damn early. They were just opening,” Tsukishima complains, hitching up his glasses to rub at his eyes.

Keiji nods. “Yes. We have a lot to do today.” He glances over at Kuroo, whose expression has gone unreadable in a way that Keiji doesn’t really like. “Do you have a plan for what we should do?”

Kuroo’s ears do the down-up flick again. Keiji thinks it means something. He just hasn’t puzzled out what, yet. “I’ve got an idea,” Kuroo mutters. “We should maybe pack some of this stuff up. Could be a long day.”

“What do you pack for magical adventures?” Koutarou asks, sounding more excited than Keiji can comprehend. Like they’re going on some sort of road-trip.

Keiji just hopes that they won’t find a body at the end of it.

“We should bring something to drink with the food,” he says. “And the certificate.”

“Do we need the first-aid kit?” Koutarou asks. “Sunscreen? Snacks?”

Tsukishima has pulled out his phone. “I’ll google it.”

In the end, they pack two large bags. Food and water, umbrellas, the first-aid kit, a compass, Koutarou’s pocketknife, a flashlight, matches, a map of the city that Tsukishima had lying around, and power banks for their phones. As it turns out, online hiking advice is very useful for magical adventures. Especially since none of them, not even Kuroo, know what to expect.

They bundle up Kuroo in one of Koutarou’s largest hoodies, so he can wrap his tail around his waist underneath it and hide it that way. Keiji also gives him one of his beanies and a scarf—the kind that Koutarou always says looks like it’s secretly a tablecloth.

“I don’t have the collar anymore. No need to hide it,” Kuroo says when Keiji holds the scarf out to him. His voice is a little rough.

Keiji wraps it around him, anyway. “It’s so you don’t get cold,” he says.

Magical adventures, as it also turns out, begin by taking the train into the city. Tsukishima dozes off with his head resting against Keiji’s shoulder, and on his other side, Koutarou keeps telling dumb jokes to Kuroo until Kuroo is stifling small, but honest chuckles. Keiji presses his leg to Koutarou’s and hopes that his boyfriend will understand how grateful he is. Kuroo looks tired, his eyes empty and dull. It’s wonderful and amazing that Koutarou is working so hard to cheer him up.

They shuffle out of the train at the outskirts of the city. Kuroo is pretty tight-lipped about what exactly they’re doing, but he explains the basics.

Apparently, while the illustrious Kenma was mad enough to smuggle a part-demon into the city, he didn’t do so without back-up plans. There are several stashes of magical equipment hidden all over the place. Kuroo wants to get some of it before they get started.

The old, dilapidated warehouse Kuroo leads them to is sort of fitting for a secret hideout. Kuroo goes digging in a corner between buildings, pulling out a large metal crate behind various pieces of rubble that kept it hidden. He digs around in it, and with a small sound of triumph, holds up a small box. “Knew they were here.”

“What—” Koutarou asks, and then makes a sound like he very nearly swallowed his tongue. Tsukishima seems to choke on his own spit. Keiji simply stops breathing.

Kuroo has swiftly pulled up his jacket and hoodie, tail out in the open, so he can put what is most definitely a piercing first through one nipple, then one through the other.

Keiji is positive his face has to be on fire. He hides it against Koutarou’s shoulder with a squeak, but it’s too late. The image is already seared into his mind.

“What?” he hears Kuroo ask.

“Dude! Did we just go out here to get your piercings?” Koutarou calls, probably a bit too loud. Keiji really does not want to have to explain this situation to anyone walking by.

When he dares to raise his head, Kuroo has luckily pulled his clothes back down, chest and tail safely hidden away. He gestures in the air, looking a little helpless. “Kenma enchanted these,” he huffs. “They can draw up barriers, like the bell! And hide that I’m a demon!”

“And there were no options other than _nipple piercings_?” Tsukishima asks, disbelieving.

Tetsurou shrugs. “They’re close to my heart and lungs. They don’t draw attention. It’s smart! The only downside is I can’t use them when I’m a cat, but I can’t shift right now anyway.”

“I can’t believe it,” Keiji mutters quietly. He learnt a lot about enchantments when he was younger. Mostly basic stuff like ‘get well soon’ and ‘good grades’ and ‘have a lucky day’. But the old traditions of the Akaashi family certainly did not include enchanted nipple piercings.

Kuroo huffs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “If you’re gonna be this weird about it, I’ll do my dick later.”

Keiji chokes on his own spit.

He’s grateful when they move on and get back on the train.

“What’s next?” Tsukishima asks quietly, more awake this time around. Keiji has a sneaking suspicion that the flush on his cheeks isn’t entirely from the cold. But he knows for a fact that his own cheeks don’t look any better, so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“I’m going to the place of some of Hinata’s friends,” Kuroo answers, shifting slightly in his seat. “I’m hoping that they’ll know where he went.”

“Hinata?” Keiji asks, surprised. “I thought we were looking for Kenma.”

Kuroo’s expression does something weird. Like he’s feeling seven different emotions at once and doesn’t know if he should be happy or angry or sad or something else. “Kenma went adventuring with Hinata and a few more friends. Hinata has a habit of stumbling into trouble. Whatever mess they’re in will probably be his.”

Tsukishima frowns a little. “Yamaguchi had no idea where Hinata went. I asked him a lot, back when we were still thinking you were a lost cat and we had to get you back. Are you sure these people will know?”

Kuroo nods, looking determined. “They are really involved in this whole magic stuff. If we’re lucky, Hinata told them what he’s up to. And if not, they should be able to track him down anyway.”

Keiji isn’t sure why, but he didn’t expect finding Kenma to be as easy as asking someone. It makes it very apparent that Kuroo could have left at any time and only stayed with them because Kenma told him to wait.

“By the way,” Kuroo adds on. “Since Kenma and I were trying to keep the whole shifting, part demon thing under wraps—they have no idea that I’m Kenma’s cat Kuroo. We told everyone that I’m his cousin, Kozume Tetsurou. So please watch it with the names.”

Keiji feels Koutarou go tense beside him. When he looks up, Koutarou’s brows have drawn into an unhappy frown. “No one knows?” he asks, voice quieter than Keiji is used to from him. “But—your ears.”

Kuroo shrugs, looking a little sheepish. He seems very tired again in that moment. “Kenma usually spells all that hidden for me. They think I’m just plain human.”

Koutarou looks even unhappier with that answer. “Your friends don’t know you’re not human,” he states, like he’s trying to phrase it as a question but already knows that it’s true and that he doesn’t like it.

Kuroo only shrugs again. His expression looks a little pinched. “They’re Hinata’s friends, not mine.”

Koutarou is opening his mouth again, probably to dig into whether _Kuroo_ has any friends and if those know more about him, and the tired slump of Kuroo’s shoulders is already telling Keiji that the answer will be something Koutarou won’t like. So before Koutarou can say anything else, Keiji gently nudges his side and whispers, “Kuroo looks very tired, Bo. Let him sleep.”

Koutarou’s expression darkens further at that. He probably knows what Keiji is trying to do, but he allows it and stays quiet on the matter.

Kuroo actually does fall asleep a few minutes later, and Koutarou has to shake him awake when they leave the train. With the way Kuroo is swaying as they exit the station, Keiji has to wonder just how little he actually slept last night. It worries him.

He worries much more when they reach their destination, a small house with a store front and a bright sign proclaiming proudly what this place is.

“Kuroo,” Keiji hisses quietly, shocked to see that Kuroo already has his hand on the door. “Why are we at the shop of _creature hunters_?”

“Huh?” Kuroo gives him an empty look, like there’s nothing strange about a part-demon, who just narrowly escaped being exorcised, walking straight into the workplace of people hunting things like him for a living.

Tsukishima leans forward so he can look past Akaashi at the sign. “Is this smart?” he asks, eyes narrowed dubiously.

“Don’t worry, guys, it’s fine,” Kuroo assures them with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ve known them for years. They do all sorts of magical odd jobs. Not just hunting. And we need their help to find Kenma.”

Akaashi sends the sign another suspicious look. Whoever these guys are, they can’t be _that_ harmless if they hunt creatures for a living and Kuroo has to get his magical protective nipple piercings before they can visit them.

But it’s too late to go back now. Kuroo is already pushing against the door. It doesn’t budge, and with some relief Keiji notices the ‘closed’ sign hanging inside.

Keiji lets out a small sigh. Good, now they won’t—

“Heeey!” Kuroo yells and knocks his fist against the door forcefully. “Daichi! Open up!”

Well, so much for that then. Keiji can only hope that this won’t end in disaster now. At least he’s brought several copies of their demon certificate. If it all comes down around them, then Keiji will be able to prove that Kuroo isn’t just a vicious beast.

“Fuck off, man, we’re closed!” someone shouts from inside, voice slightly muffled.

Kuroo stops hammering against the door for a moment. Takes a deep breath. “Tanaka, it’s me!” he hollers then. “Your old pal Tetsurou! Let me in!”

There is silence, and then, steps. A man with short-shorn hair and a heavy metal shirt practically runs up to the door, unlocks it, and rips it open. “Tetsurou!” he shouts, even though he is in front of them now. His grin is wild and delighted.

Kuroo looks much the same. “Tanaka!” he greets the man, much louder than is necessary. They high-five, and then bump their fists, and then there is more of a complicated ritual of their hands meeting that Keiji is rapidly losing track of.

“It’s good to see you, man!” Tanaka laughs when they’re done. “Come in, come in! It’s freezing balls out there. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Kuroo excitedly waves for them to follow inside the store. “Yeah, I’ve been—busy. Where’s the rest of the crew? I kind of have a favor to ask.”

Tanaka’s wide grin dims a little. “I’ll be honest with you, we’re crazy busy right now. Coven can’t keep up with all the attacks that are happening so now they’re outsourcing shit to us. Sae got into a bit of a scuffle with a demon last week and Daichi is trying to keep her home while she’s healing up. Is it something urgent?”

Kuroo’s shoulders slump. “It’s really important. Sorry for barging in with this so suddenly. Please give Saeko my regards.”

Tanaka shakes his head violently. “Are you mad? If she hears you have an emergency, not even Daichi will be able to keep her home. We are not mentioning this.”

Tetsurou snickers a little at that.

Tanaka joins in. Then, without warning, he turns and shouts into the house. “Suga! Get your ass down here! We have a visitor!”

Keiji jumps a little at the unexpected volume. He got too drawn into their conversation. He hasn’t seen Kuroo this lively before.

Kuroo and this Tanaka seem like really good friends, actually. And they keep talking about other people and encounters so easily that Keiji is beginning to wonder just how much of a social life Kuroo had before he came to their place.

Tanaka leads them into a brightly lit, large room. Keiji looks inside and immediately wants to grab everyone and move back out. The entire room is _stuffed_ with weapons of different kinds. There are swords, spears, shields, saws, and staffs. Even a few guns. And more disconcertingly, some of the weapons are covered in blood.

“What are you shouting so much for?” someone complains from a small table at the side. Keiji hasn’t noticed them before, too preoccupied by the threat of imminent death all around them. It’s a young man, about their age. Square jaw, short black hair. He’s cleaning one of the bloody swords with a very dirty rag, but carelessly throws both down the second he spots Kuroo.

Keiji watches, astonished, as the man jumps to his feet, he and Kuroo bound towards each other with wide steps, and then they meet in a joyful hug.

The very elaborate handshake with Tanaka was one thing. This is—something else.

Keiji finds that he doesn’t like it.

The guy swings Kuroo around the room like he weighs nothing. “Tetsu! So good to see you!”

“Aw, I missed you, too,” Kuroo laughs. Keiji watches, lips pressed together tightly, as those two keep standing in each other’s space. Kuroo should step back already. The jacket and Koutarou’s hoodie can hide the tail from view, but if he keeps pressing against this man, the guy is bound to notice eventually that something is really off with Kuroo.

Keiji’s only comfort is that he feels Koutarou stand equally tense at his shoulder. Tsukishima doesn’t exactly look overjoyed, either.

Kuroo keeps smiling at the man, and the man keeps smiling back, mumbling about “Tetsu this” and “Tetsu that”, and it’s nerve-wracking to watch. Kuroo is standing too close. Far too close. It’s dangerous.

There are rapid steps behind them, and then Keiji is forced to abandon his staring as someone barrels past him.

He doesn’t catch more than a glance of light hair and a giant hoodie, and then someone new is jumping into Kuroo’s arms with a delighted call of “Tetsurou!”

Keiji wills his face to relax. The space between his brows in particular feels very tight.

It irks him to hear how familiar everyone here is with Kuroo, how they keep calling him Tetsurou—Keiji hasn’t dared yet, not once—but it’s selfish of him to begrudge Kuroo that. It’s good that Kuroo has a few close friends. Before, Keiji was silently sharing Koutarou’s worry that Kuroo only had Kenma and was all alone otherwise.

But then Kuroo practically sighs, “Suga, hey”, with the new man still held in his arms, and the other one pressed right against his side, and then—

Keiji has to blink a few times before he can believe it.

But Kuroo has leaned forward a little, and so has this Suga, and right now—they are most definitely kissing right now.

“Missed you,” this Suga hums when he pulls away, and then he kisses the other man, and then the other man turns and _also_ kisses Kuroo.

Keiji can _feel_ Koutarou radiating with jealousy next to him. Literally feel it. Koutarou’s magic is leaking out a little bit from how angry he is.

Tsukishima on the other hand is the perfect picture of nonchalance. His face is so carefully blank, except for the slightest twist of cold disapproval to his mouth, that Keiji is a little worried about how much emotion he’s hiding underneath.

Keiji himself is beginning to feel very silly, and very unimportant.

Kuroo said that these were old friends of his. Of Hinata’s. But that doesn’t seem like ‘old friends’ to Keiji.

This reunion is more cheerful and more intimate than anything he and Koutarou and Tsukishima have ever shared with Kuroo.

Hell, to those two men Kuroo isn’t even Kuroo, he’s Tetsurou.

Keiji tries to remind himself that those two only call Kuroo that because they don’t know the truth, about him being a cat spirit or a demon. But it’s a very small victory, dimmed by the painful awareness that Keiji and Koutarou and Tsukishima only know these things because they found out by accident. Kuroo didn’t mean to shift into a more human form, and he didn’t mean to be exposed as a demon in front of them. All of this happened by chance and against his will. The only reason Kuroo ever came to them in the first place is because he _doesn’t_ know them. Kenma told him to hide, and Kuroo probably decided that these men were way to close to him to make a decent hide-out.

It stings. Keiji tries to swallow it down, but he can’t. His nose itches, and he has to step back so he can feel Koutarou against his back, warm and steady.

They’re not very important to Kuroo. Kuroo chose them out of convenience. He kept flirting with them because he really likes casual sex and they were the only people available.

They’re not special. Kuroo won’t—there won’t be some kind of miracle where Kuroo decides that he likes them enough to stick around.

Keiji doesn’t know when he started hoping for that. But it hurts to lose that illusion now.

Even if Kenma turns out to be dead, Kuroo won’t stay. He has more than enough friends available, people who have known him for years and who share his involvement in magic and who know him well enough to use his first name and kiss him so casually—

They never stood a chance.

Keiji, with his constant worries and unease about showing affection where someone could see and his ton of issues, never stood a chance.

He watches, almost in trance, as Kuroo stays happily squeezed in between those guys, joking and laughing. Keiji only snaps out of it when the new arrival tilts his face closer to Kuroo’s and mutters, “Hey, Tetsurou, what’s up with your eyes?”

Keiji’s internal sense of danger begins blaring and he startles forward.

But Kuroo is already smiling crookedly, waving off the concern. “Oh, that. Akaashi tried a spruced up ‘Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed' spell on me to get me back on my feet. Had some funny side effects.”

The man blinks a few times. “Are you saying—?”

Keiji almost stops breathing when Kuroo nods and pulls up his jacket and hoodie to let his tail slip out. “Yeah, see?” He looks excited.

Is he happy that he finally gets to share his side of himself with his old friends? Even if it’s under a pretense?

Suga coos, immediately reaching out. He halts a second before touching the winding tail, glancing up at Kuroo. Kuroo nods. With an excited squeal, Suga runs his fingers through the long, black fur. “It’s so soft! I can’t believe it.”

The other man—maybe he’s the Daichi that Kuroo was calling for earlier—looks equally excited. He points at the beanie that Keiji gave to Kuroo. “Do you—?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo chuckles nervously. He pulls the beanie off. His ears flick a few times as they’re exposed to the air.

“Oh my fucking gods,” Suga breathes, eyes wide and positively _sparkling_. His hands are on the ears a moment later, rubbing them between his fingers.

Daichi is carefully touching them, too, slow and thoughtful, but nevertheless intrigued. “Do you feel that? How is it?”

“Uh, tickles a little. Not bad,” Kuroo answers, looking a little reluctant. “Mostly I’m really glad that the spell wasn’t a version of ‘Happy as a clam’.”

Suga snorts and stifles a laugh.

“I hope you didn’t come here to show us these and then _not_ spend the night?” Daichi asks. Keiji would think that he has a nice voice, if he wasn’t currently asking Kuroo to have sex with him.

“That would be very cruel, Tetsurou,” Suga whines, pinching the ears.

Him and Daichi and Kuroo then. _Lovely_.

“Just out of curiosity, has anyone in this room _not_ slept with him?” Tsukishima interjects in that moment, voice absolutely flat. Even his carefully blank expression can’t hide from Keiji how displeased he is.

One hand goes up. “I haven’t,” Tanaka says.

Kuroo pouts. He turns back to them for the first time in far too long. “That’s not fair,” he whines. “Bo, Akaashi, raise your hands! You’re making me look like a complete slut.”

Akaashi’s arm feels as heavy as a rock. He’s not sure if he can move at all.

“You _are_ ,” Tsukishima says dryly and without mercy.

Kuroo squawks. Suga snorts out another laugh, burying it against his chest. “You made some very fun friends, Tetsurou.” He nudges Kuroo’s side. “Won’t you introduce us?”

Kuroo pulls a face. It’s probably meant as a joke, but Keiji is at the point where that stings, too.

It’s a small solace that now, finally, Kuroo steps away from where he’s cuddled up with the two strangers, coming a bit closer to Keiji and Koutarou and Tsukishima instead. “Yeah, these are—”

Something very strange happens then. Keiji watches, almost in slow-motion, as Kuroo stops walking and sways on the spot, stumbling another step. His tail jerks out, swinging in a wild arch, before he regains his balance and straightens up, eyes wide and surprised.

Keiji has never seen Kuroo stumble before. Kuroo is part _cat_. It doesn’t happen.

“Whoa there,” Daichi yelps, reaching out belatedly to steady him. “You alright? Tail throwing you off?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo chuckles, nervously. His tail stops swaying behind him.

It’s an obvious lie and Keiji doesn’t like it. Something is off. Keiji wants to ask, but with Kuroo’s old friends here, he can’t bring it up that Kuroo is definitely not off balance because of his _tail_.

“So, these are Tsukki, Bokuto, and Akaashi,” Kuroo says then, not dwelling on what happened any longer. He points at each of them in turn.

“It’s Tsukishima,” Tsukishima corrects with a blank look. Kuroo snickers quietly.

“Tanaka Ryuunosuke,” the man who let them in says proudly.

“I’m Sugawara Koushi,” the silver-haired man hums as he comes back up behind Kuroo, slipping an arm around his waist and running his hand along the black tail. “Just Suga is fine.”

“Sawamura Daichi,” the last of them introduces himself with a bright smile.

Keiji mentally adjusts his names for them. He has no intention of acting like he’s close with any of them. He doesn’t know them, and he isn’t going to. Sawamura rubs the back of his head, and Keiji can feel the man’s thoughtful look resting on himself like a weight. Sawamura’s gaze has been slipping towards them a few times now. “So, I have to ask—Akaashi?”

Keiji allows himself another moment to feel Koutarou’s warmth against his back before he replies, “Yes. One of _the_ Akaashis.”

Sawamura’s smile is open, but his eyes have gone considering. “I didn’t know the Akaashis were experimenting with new spells now.”

“They’re not,” Keiji says, voice steady. “I’m doing things by myself.”

Kuroo tugs at Sawamura to pull the man’s attention to himself. Keiji would be grateful if Kuroo didn’t do it by slipping his fingers into the guy’s belt loops of all things.

“So, Daichi,” Kuroo drawls and bats his eyes. “Not to ruin the mood or anything, but I’m kind of here because of an emergency. I think Kenma might be in trouble.”

All three men startle. “Are you sure?” Sugawara asks, pressing himself closer to Kuroo’s back. “Yachi came with them. That’s usually just on low-risk stuff.”

Kuroo tenses, shoulders drawing up. “I’m sure. Do you know where they went? What they wanted to do? Anything?” His voice gets increasingly more frantic. Keiji’s heart aches for him.

Sugawara shakes his head. “I don’t think they mentioned anything. Yachi only asked me to water her plants while she’s gone. It’s been much longer than she said it would be, but I just thought they got held up.”

“It was similar with Kenma,” Kuroo mutters. “He said it would be about a week. It’s been over a month now, and then yesterday—” His breath hitches and he pauses for a moment. “I got an emergency signal from him, but it wasn’t clear.”

“That’s rough, dude,” Tanaka hums in sympathy. He squirms his way into the Sawamura-Sugawara-Kuroo bundle just so he can pat Kuroo’s shoulder.

Sawamura purses his lips. “I got a text from Kageyama a few weeks back. He was asking about the portals to the Tweens. Maybe they went there?”

Keiji’s breath hitches. If they mean what he thinks they means—No way. No one would go there and stay there for _weeks_.

But Kuroo groans, burying his face against Sawamura’s shoulder. “ _Of course_ Hinata would drag them to the fucking _Tweens_.”

With a sad smile, Sawamura pats his head. Sugawara seems more interested in touching Kuroo’s ears.

Tsukishima steps forward. “What is that?”

“Oh, it's the In-Between spaces,” Tanaka answers. “You know, when several dimensions overlap, how it’s not all neat? There’s empty spaces with nothing, and then there’s the In-Between where different places kind of collapsed into one another and made something new.”

Keiji’s chest feels cold. So it is just what he feared.

In this case, he’s very worried that Kenma won’t be alive when they find him. Some of the In-Betweens are harmless, but most of them are very bad news. Other dimensions are rough, especially for humans, and the new In-Between spaces that came to be aren’t much better.

He feels Koutarou’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles where no one else can see, and forces himself to relax and breathe steadily again.

“I’ll go look up the closest portal,” Sugawara offers, face leant in close to Kuroo’s and voice quiet. “Shouldn’t be too far from here. Do you want us to come?”

“We can help you look,” Sawamura adds. “We’ll tell the coven to find someone else.”

Kuroo’s shoulders draw up. Keiji hears a small, shaky sound, the kind that makes him worry if Kuroo might be crying.

It’s certainly not good news that Kenma went into a wild, dangerous magical dimension weeks ago and hasn’t been back since.

But when Kuroo raises his head, his cheeks are dry, even though his eyes are bloodshot and look even more tired than before. He shakes his head. “Thanks, but we’ll manage. You guys are really busy, right?”

“Not too busy for you,” Daichi murmurs, voice low and gravelly. The intimate way he cradles Kuroo’s face in his palm and rubs his thumb over the arch of Kuroo’s cheekbone has Keiji’s cheeks flushing.

When Sugawara leans in close as well and whispers something into Kuroo’s ear, Keiji hurriedly averts his eyes. He still hears Kuroo’s low, raspy chuckle. It’s quiet, but more genuine than anything Koutarou’s jokes drew from him this morning.

How foolish they were, Keiji mentally reprimands himself. To think that the fragile, shallow bond they formed with Kuroo in the past weeks mattered in any way. _Could_ matter as much as the words of friends and lovers that have known Kuroo for years.

How foolish to think that any of _them_ would matter to Kuroo when he’s free to go back to his old life.

Keiji feels so silly now. And he finds a small, weak part inside of himself that regrets not staying home, so he wouldn’t have had to see this. So he could have held on to the illusion that they’re important to Kuroo just a little bit longer.

How very, very foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how abruptly the scene cuts off at the end there. i'm still wrangling with how to separate chapters so i kind of just chopped off the end of the scene here to keep it for next time :')  
> i've realized only after reading over this chapter to check for mistakes that it's much more relaxed and fun than i remember. oops?
> 
> any attentive readers among you might have expected the kuroo/daichi/suga situation. akaashi and bo and tsukki sure didn't. that was fun. wasn't that fun? so much more fun than answers about kenma, i'm sure :3c
> 
> i also definitely had a lot of fun with the magical nipple piercings and using modern idioms as spells (like Rainbow Rowell in the Simon Snow series, if you know it) because magic doesn't always have to be stuffy and old and boring, and incorporating modern stuff is a lot of fun! plus i'm the boss and i can do what i want :p  
> i know some of you are interested in how magic works in this verse, so i thought i'd mention it :)


	15. Four Beautiful Places To Visit That Could Kill You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is really early because I keep writing so much more than I plan on. Please don't become spoiled. I'm sorry

In the end, just as Keiji expected, Sawamura, Sugawara, and Tanaka do accompany them.

Their goal are the forest and fields on the outside of the city, where a few steady portals have been opened to the In-Between space that Kageyama asked about. This particular In-Between is one that formed between the human and demon realm, apparently, and lately it has been haunted by demons which is why Sawamura insisted it would be too dangerous to let them go on their own.

Keiji thinks they should maybe watch the news more often. He chose to leave magic behind him when he left his family and their life was quite sheltered and safe in the suburbs, far at the other end of the city. But now, with Kuroo in their life and all of these demon attacks, it seems relevant to keep up. If only so that Keiji can keep an eye on public opinion. If things get too bad, the coven might come after Kuroo again, insisting that he’s too dangerous to walk free after all.

He considers asking Sawamura or Sugawara or Tanaka about these demon attacks, but then decides against it. The three men are walking in a tight line with Kuroo, and together they seem quite content to talk to each other and cheer Kuroo up. As much as it pains Keiji to see them so much more successful at it than he or Koutarou or Tsukishima were, he’s relieved to see Kuroo smiling again.

But in between those smiles, worry and exhaustion still lurk through. Walking behind the reunited group, Keiji sees Kuroo drifting off from conversation and getting lost in thought, stumbling over his own feet, more than once.

It has to be terrible for him—not knowing if Kenma is alive or dead.

Keiji wishes he could do something for Kuroo, but anything he said would most likely be less comforting than whatever Sawamura and Sugawara keep murmuring into Kuroo’s ears. So Keiji sticks to walking between Koutarou and Tsukishima, a few paces behind the group of four.

Koutarou has his hands buried in his pockets, shoulders tense and drawn up. Every time Kuroo is patted affectionately, Keiji can hear him huff. The sharp ozone smell of his magic has mostly faded, but Keiji can still feel the faint prickle of it on his skin. Given how smitten he was with Kuroo, it’s no surprise that Koutarou is as hurt as Keiji is to see Kuroo like this.

Tsukishima seems to be taking it better, but Keiji might be wrong. Tsukishima has always been able to hide what he’s really feeling. He’s walking with long, striding steps now, seemingly unbothered. His expression is blank. Keiji wonders what he’s thinking.

There were moments when Keiji was almost sure that Tsukishima was jealous of them because of Kuroo. That Tsukishima was worried they would take Kuroo away from him. That he was happy about what he and Kuroo had, and wishing to keep it.

Keiji isn’t seeing any of that now. Tsukishima’s expression betrays nothing. It’s as if seeing Kuroo with others isn’t bothering him at all.

They don’t walk long enough for Keiji to get anywhere with his musings. The little shop is close to the edge of town, and it can’t have been more than ten minutes of them walking when the houses fade out to be replaced by long grass, muddy fields, and the first trees building up to a forest in the distance. The leaves are all gone already, and it makes the place look very dreary, especially with the clouds hanging overhead.

“Are you sure you don’t want our help, Tetsurou?” Sugawara asks.

The whole group ahead of them slows to a stop. Keiji takes it as indication that they’ve made it to where they want to be.

Kuroo shakes his head with a brittle smile. “I appreciate the offer, you guys, but no thanks. I feel better doing this on my own.”

“What, and you’re taking these noobs?” Tanaka asks, pointing at them. It’s the first time they’ve been acknowledged since they got introduced, Keiji thinks. Koutarou is glaring daggers for the remark.

Kuroo chuckles and nudges Tanaka with his elbow. “Don’t be mean, dude.”

Sugawara slips in close and wraps his arms around Kuroo’s middle. “Call us if you need any help, yeah?”

“’Course,” Kuroo assures him. He tilts his head, and Sugawara does, too. Keiji knows they’re going to kiss a moment before it actually happens. He looks away.

When he dares to look back, Kuroo is kissing Sawamura, which really isn’t any better, so Keiji looks away again.

There are a few more hushed words exchanged, and Kuroo and Tanaka repeat their overly elaborated handshake, before Tanaka, Sawamura, and Sugawara finally take off.

Keiji is happy to see them leave, and it’s not because of the way Sawamura is filling out his pants very well.

When he turns to Kuroo, he’s not sure what he expects. A part of him really wants to ask what all that was about. Kuroo claimed he wasn’t really friends with these guys, but it didn’t look that way to Keiji.

Keiji doesn’t get to ask, though. Kuroo is already marching off into one of the fields, his boots leaving imprints in the wet grass.

“Old friends my ass,” Tsukishima grumbles under his breath. He and Koutarou exchange a glance that holds all of the indignation Keiji felt earlier.

Now Keiji just feels empty. And silly. It’s not like they have any right to hold on to Kuroo.

They follow Kuroo silently, catching up to him where he has stopped in front of a large puddle. The water is very still, reflecting the gray sky above like a perfect mirror.

Kuroo turns towards them, looking a little wobbly on the muddy ground. “Are you guys sure you want to come?” he asks, his expression tight. “The Tweens aren’t a very nice place. I can look for Kenma on my own.”

“If it’s so awful, you really shouldn’t go alone!” Koutarou huffs. He steps forward, grabs Kuroo’s shoulders, and pulls him into a sudden kiss.

Keiji’s eyes go wide. He hears Tsukishima gasp quietly.

When Koutarou draws back, his expression is grim. “I’m coming with you.”

“Okay,” Kuroo mumbles, looking completely perplexed. “Thank you?”

Koutarou nods decisively.

“Yeah, I’m coming, too,” Tsukishima drawls with a defeated shrug of his shoulders. “Not that I’m going to be able to _do_ anything.”

“Thank you, Kei. I appreciate it,” Kuroo says earnestly.

Tsukishima’s cheeks color and he looks away to the side, glaring at the trees with a click of his teeth while crossing his arms. It’s very fascinating to watch.

Kuroo’s eyes fall to Keiji then, and it’s odd. Keiji feels like he’s put in front of an audience. Like everyone will listen to his next words and judge them. He doesn’t want to come up short.

He also can’t bring himself to move. Not while they’re out in the open like this, where anyone could see. Not after he was just reminded of how little they matter to Kuroo in the grand scheme of things.

Kuroo’s golden, cat-like eyes feel like a weight on him. Keiji can’t look away from them, painfully aware of the dark shadows beneath, of the redness that the cold has drawn to Kuroo's cheeks, the strands of black hair hanging out beneath the beanie.

Kuroo looks so tired. So lost. So afraid.

Keiji could never stay back and leave him on his own.

His mouth feels dry, so he nods to ease himself into talking. “We said we would help you find him. I’m with you.”

The smile that lights up Kuroo’s face at those words has Keiji’s heart beating faster. “Thank you, Akaashi,” Kuroo breathes.

Keiji drops his gaze down to his shoes and the muddy ground. His face feels far too hot.

He hears more than watches as Kuroo mutters a short spell. The puddle in front of them rises to form a thin, shimmering wall.

Kuroo sighs. “There we go. One way to the In-Between.” He holds out his hands to them. “Please hold on. I’m not great with portals and it would really suck if we got spat out in different spots.”

One of them stuck alone in the In-Between. Keiji doesn’t even want to think about it.

It’s terrible enough that they’re going at all, not that they have much of a choice. They promised Kuroo that they would help him find Kenma.

Keiji’s grip on Koutarou’s hand has to painfully tight, and he clutches Kuroo’s hand just as desperately. Neither of them complains, though. Tsukishima takes Kuroo’s other hand, and like that, they all step forward through the glassy surface.

Keiji’s breath stutters in his lungs when he blinks and takes in where they landed.

They are surrounded by red sand and pillars of stone. It reminds him of a desert or a canyon, but it’s absolutely freezing. The sky is a pale, gray-ish blue, and instead of the sun, there is a black circle high up, drenching everything in an eerie, washed out light. Off in the distance, there are black spikes rising from the ground, looking easily as tall as a house. A faint mist seems to hang around them, or maybe drip from them, like they’re not entirely solid.

“Oh shit,” Koutarou yelps, almost barreling Keiji over as he suddenly jumps back. Keiji looks to his side and gasps.

That’s a demon.

He doesn’t register more than that before he’s stumbling back, pulling at Koutarou and Kuroo both, willing them to run away.

“It’s dead,” Kuroo says, like he’s not affected at all. He squeezes Keiji’s hand before he lets go of it, and steps towards the body.

Keiji’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his body ready for the _flight_ option of fight-or-flight. But he trusts Kuroo, so he stays where he is, taking a closer look.

The demon really does look dead. It’s a giant thing, pitch-black in the vague shape of something with six legs, lying on its side. Even like that it’s twice as high as Koutarou, who is unfortunately clambering up to it to inspect it. Keiji can see dark spots marring the red sands around the body. Probably blood. Hopefully not human.

“What _is_ that?” Tsukishima asks, stepping closer to Keiji. Keiji is very glad he’s not the only one against poking around at the thing. Kuroo is trailing in a circle around it, eyes thoughtful.

“That’s a demon,” Keiji answers quietly.

Tsukishima goes silent. Keiji can see his eyes flicking rapidly between Kuroo and the giant beast.

There isn’t much similarity. The demon has horns, but they are much larger than the small nubs that Kuroo showed. In its opened maw, Keiji can see huge, shark-like teeth. Also much more monstrous than Kuroo’s little fangs. That’s about all they have in common at all.

“Must have been killed just before it crossed over into the human realm,” Kuroo muses out loud. His expression seems very unaffected, and Keiji laments that he can’t see Kuroo’s ears or tail to get a better read on what he’s feeling. Is Kuroo really this calm about seeing a dead demon? Does it not upset him? A part of him is the same as that thing. Kuroo could be killed one day because people don’t see a difference at all. Does that really not bother him?

Maybe Kuroo is just hiding his feelings really well.

Or maybe he just doesn’t have any capacity for it, too worried about finding Kenma.

Keiji does wonder what Kenma has supposedly been doing here for weeks. Has he come here to kill more demons? Keiji can’t think of anything else one could do here. But then why did he leave Kuroo behind? Did he not want Kuroo to see what he was doing? Did he want to hide it?

Keiji wishes he knew more. He wishes he had any answers at all.

Kuroo steps back from the demon’s dead body, hands shoved in his pockets. “Come on,” he says. “The Tweens are gigantic and the sooner we get started, the more ground we can cover.”

In the odd lighting of this place, Keiji can’t help but notice the gleam of sharp teeth between Kuroo’s lips. The shine of his golden eyes, parted by a slitted pupil. Kuroo’s ears push up against the beanie in two spots, making it look almost like he’s hiding horns.

For the first time, Keiji wonders just how much of Kuroo’s appearance is really cat spirit and how much of it is demonic.

Unwillingly, he remembers the sharp sting of betrayal that he felt last night, when he realized Kuroo was a demon instead of a familiar. That all the kinship he felt for Kuroo was nothing but a lie, that Kuroo had let him believe they had this in common when it was just a pretense—

Keiji got played and he didn’t even realize it.

He wishes he could say that it doesn’t matter, that he knows Kuroo as a person and trusts him all the same, just like Koutarou does. But the truth is—

Keiji knew about demons long before he knew Kuroo. They are dangerous and violent, and only death and destruction follow in their wake.

Keiji still remembers sitting together with his cousin Hideo one afternoon, both of them doing their homework. His aunt was watching over them. She explained the difference between mitosis and myosis to Keiji when he couldn’t keep them apart. And then the next morning, Keiji’s father told him with teary eyes that Hideo was in the hospital and that they’d all go to his aunt’s funeral next week.

And Keiji remembers the weeks when his father would hardly speak to him or anyone at all, grieving after his familiar jumped in to protect him from a demon and was devoured whole. Keiji only heard that story from his uncle much later.

That is what he knows about demons. When they attack, people die. Relatives, friends, familiars and humans alike, people he cared about—alive and well one day, then dead the next. For a very long time, that slow, dreary walk to the family grave and the smell of antiseptic in the hospital have been all Keiji can think of when he hears the word _demon_.

Kuroo is not a full demon, but he still—

He ran out on them the moment the coven mages showed up. He sat through Keiji opening up about how much losing his familiar hurt him, and didn’t say a word to clarify that it wasn’t the same for him.

Keiji feels foolish.

He’s not even sure why.

Is it because Kuroo was lying to them? Because Keiji didn’t see through it when he really should have? Or is it something else?

He can’t let his family’s teachings guide him too strongly. He knows that demons are evil, but Kuroo is—

He’s different.

He lied, but he was scared. He was trying to protect his friend. And he tried to protect _them_ , too. He jumped in front of Koutarou when he was in danger. And he took on a huge risk by saying he was acting on his own, rather than let Tsukishima claim responsibility.

Keiji still doesn’t fully understand him.

But he wants to.

He looks at Kuroo for a moment longer, trying to etch into his mind how he looks now. Somehow demonic and at the same time not.

Then Kuroo turns away, and he stumbles in the soft sand.

He falls.

Keiji has never seen Kuroo fall.

“Kuroo!” Koutarou calls out, running to his side in an instant. Tsukishima and Keiji are close behind.

“Are you alright?” Keiji asks, worry weighing heavily on his chest.

Kuroo shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he grunts. Keiji doesn’t miss how much he’s leaning on Koutarou as he gets back to his feet.

Tsukishima gives him a critical look. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m _fine_!” Kuroo hisses, unexpectedly sharp. His teeth are bared, sharp and dangerous, and Keiji reflexively takes a step back before he realizes.

He sees concern in Koutarou’s eyes and quickly brushes it off with a shake of his head. He’s alright. It’s Kuroo that he’s worried about.

Kuroo’s furious expression crumbles a moment later and he looks down at his feet. “Sorry. I’m just—tired. But I’m not going to back off now. I have to find Kenma.”

Of course he does.

“I understand,” Keiji says softly. “We’ve come this far, right?”

Kuroo’s golden eyes meet his, exhausted and sad and surprised. Keiji tries for a smile that he’s not really feeling. He’s too tense. Too worried about what they might find at the end of this, or if they’ll find nothing at all—and what that will do to Kuroo.

“I—yeah,” Kuroo mutters. He steps away from Koutarou, looking steadier on his feet now. It’s a small relief.

“Alright, enough wasting time then,” Tsukishima says. “Let’s get going.”

And with that, they set off.

* * *

“Kuroo,” Akaashi says. His tone is very soft and very gentle and very understanding.

It’s the first time anyone has spoken to him in hours, ever since Bokuto was surprised that Tetsurou’s eyes reflected the glow of the flashlights in the dark. It has been dark for a while now.

They’ve been searching all day and found absolutely nothing except for another dead demon. They ate all their food and have maybe half a bottle of water left.

They should turn back. From Akaashi’s tone of voice alone Tetsurou already knows that’s what he’s going to suggest.

But Tetsurou _can’t_.

He has trouble keeping his eyes open and his legs are as heavy as lead. He keeps stumbling in this gods-forsaken sand and his head is pounding and any time he’s not glaring at the horizon everything around him sways so much that he gets sick with dizziness. He knows that the other three have to be at their limit, too, and it’s cruel to keep going. It’s very useless as well, considering how dark it is.

But Tetsurou can’t stop now.

Not until he knows where Kenma is. If Kenma is alright.

“You guys should probably go home,” he grits out, turning around to face them deliberately slowly, so that they won’t notice how shot his balance is. They are worried enough as it is.

If Tetsurou wasn’t so terrified of what might have happened to Kenma, he would maybe worry, too. He feels very sick.

But that matters very little when he doesn’t even know if Kenma is alive or dead.

Tetsurou is holding on to the hope that Kenma is fine with desperate determination, but it is wearing thin. They have looked all day and found nothing. Nothing but dead demons. The large, dangerous kind. If Kenma has run into one of those—

“We’re not leaving you here alone,” Bokuto huffs, his face pulled tight in a frown. Tetsurou would appreciate the sentiment, if Bokuto didn’t so obviously want to make Tetsurou leave, too.

Bokuto has disliked Kenma from the very beginning, without even knowing him. He probably _wants_ Tetsurou to give up now and let Kenma die out here, just to get rid of him.

It’s a ridiculous thought, brought on by exhaustion and frustration, but still Tetsurou finds himself growing angry. “I’m not leaving without Kenma!” he snaps, his voice rising to a growl, lips pulling up to bare his teeth.

He usually has better control over his more cat-like instincts. He’s a mess. He _knows_ that he’s a mess. But he can’t stop now.

Akaashi steps between them, putting a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Kuroo,” he sighs, in that beseeching, soft tone that usually has Tetsurou relenting, but now it just sets his teeth on edge.

Tetsurou shakes his head. “ _No_. If you want to leave, then leave! But I’m staying.”

Akaashi’s expression grows very severe and unhappy. Worried. It makes Tetsurou’s chest ache to see this, to cause this, but he can’t bow to Akaashi’s wishes when Akaashi is trying to make him give up.

Tetsurou can’t give up.

“As much as I hate to interrupt you guys,” Kei mutters quietly, “something smells very weird here.”

Tetsurou stops. Looks at Kei’s wrinkled nose, and takes a deep breath of his own.

The bitter note of demonic magic is undeniable.

How has he not noticed before? Did it really slip his attention for so long that now even a regular human like Kei has picked up on it before he did?

It paints a very bad picture for the kind of state Tetsurou is in, and usually Tetsurou would stop and consider what is wrong, but now he can’t. He has been missing things, even though his senses should be so much sharper than a human’s.

Now that he’s not grimly focused on walking forward anymore and taking in his surroundings instead, there is so much more. The row of black spikes off to their side almost looks like it’s flaring. A wave of black dust is swirling around them wildly. It’s not as dark as Tetsurou thought it was earlier, and instead everything is tinted in gray hues, making it look like a washed-out early morning. He doesn’t think that much time has passed yet, so it’s probably some oddity unique to these Tweens. It’s not as cold anymore, either, or maybe Tetsurou has just become numb to it.

And above all that, there’s the demonic magic prickling in the air. Tetsurou doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it before—unless it just flared up. He looks around, trying to pinpoint which direction it’s coming from and then he hears it.

A shriek.

Not human, and not animalistic, either. But furious and powerful and aggressive. It’s quiet, but only because it’s far away.

There’s a demon out there. A powerful, angry one. It has to be fighting with something. Someone.

Kenma.

Tetsurou stumbles forward on unsteady legs, feet slipping on the wretched sand that fills up this place. He’s running despite how difficult walking was before, cold air burning in his lungs. He staggers and slips more than he wants to, but he can’t stop.

Kenma could be in danger right now. Tetsurou can’t be too late again.

He already thought he lost Kenma once. He can’t risk that actually happening. If there is any chance that Kenma is still alive, Tetsurou will find him and protect him from that demon.

His heart is pounding in his ears after just a minute of running, protesting the harsh pace, but he doesn’t slow.

Distantly, he remembers that he should watch for Bokuto and Akaashi and Kei. He spots them a short distance behind him and keeps going. They’ll have to keep up with him. They’re not stupid enough to get lost in the Tweens on their own.

And even if they can’t keep up, Tetsurou will find them again later.

It’s a callous thought, and he dislikes himself for thinking it, but finding Kenma has priority for now. It eclipses everything else.

Tetsurou has to find Kenma and make sure that he’s alright. _Alive_.

He has to.

He makes it past one more cropping of rocks. Everything is blurry. His lungs are screaming. He can’t breathe. His foot digs into the sand deeper than he anticipates and he stumbles. Falls.

He gets back to his feet and keeps running.

Everything hurts, and it keeps getting worse. Black spots are taking over his vision, likely from lack of air. Tetsurou forces himself to keep running, keep going.

Eventually, it doesn’t work anymore. He’s _trying_ to keep moving forward as fast as he was but his legs just won’t move, shaking too badly, and Tetsurou would curse if he had the breath for it but he _doesn’t_ —

He can’t stop here. He's so close. Kenma is in danger.

Tetsurou marches forward, but it’s so slow now. He’s going to be _too late_.

His arm is grabbed and Tetsurou gasps, because it’s all he can do at the moment. His whole body feels overly exhausted and numb. Even his fingers are trembling. He’s covered in cold sweat, but too hot at the same time. It’s disgusting. With how blurry his vision is, it takes him a moment to realize that it’s Bokuto who has grabbed him.

Stupid asshole is probably trying to make him slow down or stop.

Tetsurou doesn’t have the patience for it. He huffs, as much as he can between his desperate gulps for air, still tottering forward.

Without a word, Bokuto moves closer.

Tetsurou’s frantically beating heart stutters when they are suddenly, unexpectedly, pressed side to side. Bokuto pulls Tetsurou’s arm over his shoulders.

It steadies Tetsurou’s swaying walk immediately. Makes it easier, too, because Bokuto is pulling him along now, like the harsh pace is nothing to him. Warm eyes bore into Tetsurou, filled with too many emotions for him to count in the state he’s in. There’s determination, and worry, and sadness, and so much more that it makes Tetsurou’s head spin. Or maybe that is just the exhaustion.

Tetsurou doesn’t understand.

It must show in his expression, because Bokuto squeezes his wrist and slips his other arm around Tetsurou’s waist and then goes even faster. “You want to see him,” Bokuto says, as if that explains any of this, as if that is reason enough for him to help Tetsurou make his way to some guy that Bokuto has been against from the very start.

Tetsurou’s chest swells with something more than the painful beating of his tired heart and the ache of his lungs. He looks away, off to the horizon they’re chasing, because his eyes are burning dangerously. A lump has built in his throat and it’s making breathing so much harder.

“Thank you,” he presses out.

Bokuto doesn’t say anything. Just keeps running and pulling Tetsurou along.

Tetsurou isn’t sure how long they keep going like that. It’s _too long_. It feels like hours, even though Tetsurou knows, rationally, that it can’t have been that long.

In his mind, he’s seeing Kenma die a thousand ways, ripped apart by the demon that roared so loudly that Tetsurou could hear it miles away. It’s making him desperate, the buzz of panic making running so much harder as it closes up his chest, but there is nothing he can do about it. He’s going as fast as he can, faster even with Bokuto’s help, and none of his determination is going to change the fact that it’s not fast enough.

By the time they’ll reach the demon, the fight will be over either way. Either the demon will be dead, or whatever it was fighting.

Tetsurou has seen what bodies look like after losing to a demon. It can be over in seconds. His mom—

There aren’t any other loud noises.

Tetsurou can only fear what they’ll find.

With as long as it is taking, Tetsurou would be worried that they’re going in the wrong direction, if the sharp, acrid smell of demonic magic wasn’t getting more and more prominent in the air. It grows so thick that it’s stinging in his eyes and clogging up his lungs, turning Tetsurou’s breaths short and frantic. Everything is going a little hazy around him. Bokuto, pressed as close as they are, doesn’t seem nearly as affected. Tetsurou would wonder about that, if he had the capacity. If he wasn’t so worried that Kenma is getting torn apart by giant teeth or skewered by black claws right now.

They’re approaching the high point of another dune, sand rising up high but still treacherously soft, when Tetsurou’s legs give out. He has barely even registered that he’s falling, when Bokuto has already pulled him upright again. He’s looking at Tetsurou, tight and concerned.

He knows something is wrong.

Tetsurou knows it, too. He was around demons before and it never affected him this badly.

But they’re close now. So close.

“Bo,” he presses out, too short of breath to say anything else.

Bokuto’s lips purse unhappily. He looks at Tetsurou a moment longer, then drags him along again. Tetsurou could cry with relief. He glances behind them just for a second, just to make sure that Kei and Akaashi are still there—which they are, just a bit further behind now—and almost slips off Bokuto’s shoulder when the other stops without warning.

Tetsurou wants to ask, to protest, but then he realizes. They're at the top of the dune, and down below them—

That’s the demon.

It’s gigantic. Practically the size of their apartment complex, with ten long legs and an even longer tail. Giant, bat-like wings blanket the area around it. Its maw is large enough to swallow people whole, sharp white teeth gleaming in the gray light.

And it’s dead. There’s blood seeping from its side into the sand, and it’s not moving at all, just lying there, charred in some places, and the sand around it looks drenched, and that’s—

Tetsurou can’t smell it over the choking, cloying pressure of demonic magic in the air, but he knows what the aftermath of Hinata’s and Kageyama’s spells looks like.

He chokes, weakly, pushing himself off Bokuto’s shoulder to skid down into the valley of sand.

They’re here.

_Kenma_ has to be here.

The easiest thing to spot is the familiar bob of orange hair, close to the fallen demon.

“Hinata!” Tetsurou calls out. It comes out rough and scratchy. He still can’t seem to get enough air. The world is swaying precariously.

The head bobs up and turns his way, bringing Tetsurou face to face with the young man that dragged Kenma into this whole mess in the first place. “Kozume-san! What are you doing out here?”

Tetsurou totters and sways and eventually stops his tumble forward by barreling into Hinata and clutching his shoulders with desperate force. “Kenma,” he gasps out, wheezing by the end of it. His lungs hurt so bad. “Where’s—Kenma?”

Hinata looks confused for a moment, and Tetsurou’s heart throbs painfully with hope.

Surprise and confusion are not worry or pain or loss. This _has_ to mean that Kenma is okay. Right?

“He should be around here—” Hinata mutters thoughtfully, looking around.

Tetsurou could sob with relief. His knees almost buckle.

Hinata grabs onto his arms and has to hold him up. “Hey, you don’t really look so good.”

Tetsurou thinks he’s shaking his head and that it’s not just the world swaying around him. “I’m fine, I—”

There’s a flicker of movement, ahead between the rocks and a lazily thrown-together tent, and Tetsurou’s head snaps up.

It’s Kageyama.

“Kozume-san!” he says, just as surprised as Hinata was.

Tetsurou can’t deal with this right now. He’s so close—

Kageyama blinks, eyes wide. “And Tsukishima. Why are you in the In-Between? I thought you didn’t do magic.”

“I don’t,” Tsukishima says very flatly, somewhere close behind Tetsurou. Tetsurou didn’t even notice that they caught up with him. It’s probably a good thing they didn’t get lost anywhere. But Tetsurou can’t focus on that right now. Everything is spinning, blood roaring in his ears. The air and demonic magic are burning in his lungs like he’s drowning in the sea and just doesn’t know it yet, but all of that doesn’t matter as much as—

“Tetsurou.”

It’s breathless.

Shocked.

Barely above a whisper.

Tetsurou would know that voice anywhere.

He whirls around, his eyes already filling with tears.

The man across from him is wearing an expression full of disbelief. He looks tired and exhausted and grimy, with a bruise blooming on his cheek.

But _alive_.

“Kenma,” Tetsurou chokes out and falls forward.

They meet in a bone-crushing hug, Kenma’s arms squeezing Tetsurou’s middle painfully hard and Tetsurou winding his own around Kenma’s shoulders with just as much force. Their terrible warm coats are in the way and Tetsurou can’t even smell Kenma over the burn of demonic magic and he can’t breathe and he’s most likely crying like a fool and it might just be the best moment of his life. He holds on even tighter, burying his face in Kenma’s hair with a weak sob—

Then Kenma shoves him back.

Tetsurou stumbles, but Kenma is still holding him firmly enough to keep him upright. There’s a muffled “Hey!” behind them that vaguely sounds like Bokuto, but Tetsurou can’t pay any attention to it. The disbelief and surprise are gone from Kenma’s face, replaced by sheer, unadulterated _terror_.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Kenma presses out, his usually calm and disinterested voice still low, yet almost shrill with panic. “Tetsurou, I told you _not to come_. Didn’t you get the message?”

“I—I was _worried_!” Tetsurou fumbles out. He knows what Kenma said, but did he really expect Tetsurou to stay away after their bond _snapped_? Tetsurou was afraid that Kenma was _dead_. The words itch and burn in his throat. He can’t bring this up here, where the others are listening. “The last thing you sent me just broke off!”

Kenma’s eyes, somehow, get even wider. They are shining faintly, dangerously. “No, I—the message I sent yesterday!”

Where are they in their paraphrasing? Is Kenma still talking about the telepathy bond or did he really send a message? Tetsurou didn’t get one. If one was sent, Kenma would use the locator spell on the bell to make sure it reaches him. Tetsurou swallows. “The bell was destroyed last night,” he whispers, hoping that Hinata and Kageyama won’t overhear.

“Fuck,” Kenma hisses sharply. His face crumbles, almost like he’s in pain. Like he’s scared. Tetsurou wishes Kenma could tell him more about what happened without giving away their whole web of lies. Kenma pushes a hand to Tetsurou’s chest. “Do you at least have—?”

He has to mean the piercings. Tetsurou nods. “Wearing them.” At least like this, they’re still safe from being discovered. Tetsurou isn’t a complete idiot.

Kenma nods. The hand that is still resting on Tetsurou’s side squeezes. “Tetsurou, I don’t have any time for explanations. We’re opening a portal and you have to leave this place _right now_.”

“What—a new portal?” That’s risky. None of them are experts on portals and portal magic is very complicated and finicky. It would be much safer to go back to the regular portals that they used to enter. “Can’t we—”

“ _Now_ , Tetsurou!” Kenma snaps, eyes wide and gleaming faintly.

Kenma never sounds like this. Something is terribly wrong.

With every fiber of his being, Tetsurou wants to stay and find out what it is and help Kenma. Something out here snapped their bond and has Kenma looking so close to tears, so afraid, that it’s breaking Tetsurou’s heart.

But all Kenma wants is for Tetsurou to leave.

Tetsurou trusts him.

With a shaky breath, he steps back. He runs a hand over his cold, wet cheeks. His eyes are burning still, but now is not the time for crying. Not when Kenma is this driven about making him go away. “Okay,” he croaks out, voice hoarse.

“Hey! Don’t talk to him like this—” someone protests, and this time Tetsurou is pretty sure it’s Bokuto. He wants to shush him, because Bokuto still doesn’t _understand_. But when he turns around, almost stumbling over his own feet, everyone’s attention has already fallen away.

Yachi is barreling into their little group, more out of breath and harried than Tetsurou has ever seen her. “Did—did Kozume-kun tell you?” she gasps out, bent forward and steadying herself on her shaking legs. “There’s—a new demon. I just—it’s closer than I thought. Weaker, but—really—really close.”

Tetsurou takes a step back. He almost walks into Kenma who is right behind him.

It can’t be.

It has to be a coincidence. He’s wearing his piercings, and he’s not even using his magic.

But the small flower on Yachi’s shoulder, innocent and pretty as it looks, is turning soft pink petals his way even as Yachi is still struggling for breath.

Kenma used to joke about Hinata, Kageyama and Yachi being like pokémon types, with their fire and water and plant magic. A part of Tetsurou has always wondered if Kenma initially made friends with them just for that reason and was only later drawn in by Hinata’s open, sunny personality. Tetsurou has never minded. It has made for a few fun jokes and a lot of terrible magical experiments that Hinata began with his fire and Kageyama had to put out before they burned the house down. They fit well together. Kenma has found a good place for himself in this little group of oddballs. Tetsurou has always thought so, even as he was a little worried about Hinata’s and Kageyama’s adventurous antics.

But he never expected sweet, shy Yachi to be their downfall.

Kageyama puts a hand on her shoulder, steadying her and rubbing her back. He and Hinata are already looking at the small flower, too, eyes wandering and searching for something behind Tetsurou for now.

They’ll realize soon.

What then? Shit, what _then_?

He turns to Kenma, unsteady and numb. Kenma’s hand is back on his chest in an instant. His eyes widen in fear.

“Tetsurou,” he presses out quietly, urgently. “These are already burned out.”

It makes no sense. Kenma spent days setting up the spells and wards in those piercings. It would take a lot of Tetsurou’s demonic magic to break the hiding spells. And Tetsurou hasn’t used his magic _at all_.

But Kenma has never been wrong. And that flower is pointing right at Tetsurou.

In that moment, he suddenly becomes painfully aware of how his ears would usually go flat down against his head and brush against the beanie he’s wearing. But he’s not sensing that. He actually can’t move his ears at all, now that he’s trying. Almost like they’re not his usual cat ears. Almost like they’re—

Something is wrong.

The realization hits him, squeezing around his chest like a vice, and even the burning, terrible air isn’t enough anymore. Kenma’s terrified face is getting blurry. His mouth is open, like he’s saying something, but Tetsurou can’t hear him over the blood roaring in his ears.

His ears are wrong.

He has finally found Kenma again, but it’s not—Finding Kenma was supposed to make everything better. Things were supposed to be _okay_ now. But somehow they’re not. Everything is _still wrong_.

It’s the last thing Tetsurou thinks before Kenma’s scared face fades from his vision completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, Kenma's fine! So glad that's solved! Now we can all relax and go home I guess ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	16. Shocking! This Man Avoids Dying A Horror Movie Death By Not Jogging Through The Woods At Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "wow onyx, that update sure was fast"  
> yes, i know. i do not control the speed at which i write. i don't control anything. i am just the vessel. please enjoy

Koutarou will admit, he had a certain picture of this Kenma guy made up in his mind.

All they knew was that someone abandoned Kuroo and wasn’t bothering to pick him up. And later they found out that this guy told Kuroo to wait for him, for a week, and then just fucked right off for much longer than that.

And Kuroo, sweet, loyal Kuroo, was waiting and waiting, always claiming that Kenma would be back for sure, even as his eyes were sad and his voice was cracking with fear and uncertainty.

Koutarou imagined that this Kenma would be someone with cold, uncaring eyes. Someone who could take such a cute cat or such a kind, caring man as Kuroo for granted and would play him for a fool and then kick him out when he no longer had fun with him. A man like that, Koutarou imagined, would have cold hands that indifferently pushed Kuroo aside most of the time. A man like that would use his strength to hurt Kuroo. He would have a mean sneer on his face and look at Kuroo like he doesn’t matter at all.

Kenma, as Koutarou learns, doesn’t look like that.

Koutarou did not expect someone so small, a full head smaller than Kuroo even, with long hair and tired eyes that brighten up when they spot Kuroo, and then get so incredibly worried moments later. Koutarou didn’t expect Kenma to fall into Kuroo’s arms like they’re long lost lovers—

Though maybe he should have.

It bothers him. It’s not that he doesn’t want Kuroo to be treated well by this guy, but it’s _off_. Not just because Kuroo looks like he’ll pass out any moment, and not just because Koutarou can’t follow their whispered half-conversation that seems loaded with secrets. It’s off because Kuroo is hanging all over Kenma, but Kenma is pushing him away and snapping at Kuroo with a harsh voice, and considering how fucking worried Kuroo was for this guy, it’s not _right_.

Maybe, despite his unexpected appearance, Kenma is every bit the asshole that Koutarou thought he would be.

Koutarou really wants to give him a piece of his mind, but Keiji his holding him back. Holding his arm and making him stay where they are. Tsukishima isn’t doing anything, either, instead glancing warily at the two other guys. Hinata and Kageyama, if Koutarou caught it right, who haven’t answered Tsukki’s texts in a month, because apparently, they were out here, with fucking _Kenma_.

Koutarou is thinking even though Kenma’s eyes aren’t cold and he doesn’t have a mean sneer, he should still deck the guy for what he put Kuroo through.

Kuroo looks like he’s falling apart.

Koutarou wants to hold him. Pull him together. At least let him know that he can stay with them, as long as he needs, since Kenma the asshole is so intent on pushing him away.

But Koutarou’s priorities change with the threat of a demon rushing over them. He thinks at first, that another one of those giant beasts showed up, but the direction everyone is looking in—

That can’t be good.

He’s stepping forward, Keiji following along this time, exchanging a worried glance with him. They do have the paper that states Kuroo isn’t dangerous—several copies of it, in fact—but Kuroo was very intent on keeping this hidden. Is there anything else they can do to help him maintain his secret?

Koutarou is still trying to come up with something, and quick, when his priorities change again. His heart stutters weakly in his chest as he watches—

Kuroo crumbles to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Kenma, to his credit, seems to be doing his best to keep Kuroo from falling onto his face. He struggles to gently lower Kuroo down instead, Kuroo’s back hitting the red-gray sand with only somewhat too much force. Koutarou would complain about that, if he wasn’t so worried about how pale Kuroo looks—even paler than before, when Koutarou dragged him along to this place. Kuroo’s head lolls to the side listlessly. When Koutarou falls to his knees next to him, checking his breathing, it’s weak and rushed and irregular. Kuroo’s skin is as cold as ice.

“What’s wrong with him?” Keiji asks, dropping to the ground right at Koutarou’s side.

Kenma doesn’t so much as spare them a glance. He has his hands pressed against Kuroo’s chest, eyes glazed over as he’s muttering something under his breath, and then his lips purse into a tense line. “ _Fuck_. No. No, no—”

He looks, almost, as broken as Kuroo did before. Panic squeezes around Koutarou’s chest. Asshole or not, if Kenma is looking this upset, it has to mean something is very wrong with Kuroo. Right?

Maybe it was wrong to push on all day. Something has obviously been off about Kuroo the entire time.

Koutarou doesn’t get to dwell on it.

“Kageyama, I need you to open a portal,” Kenma says, shooing away the man with dark hair. “Quickly!”

The man balks. “What? The regular portals are—”

“Tetsurou doesn’t have that long,” Kenma mutters. One of his hands is clutching Kuroo’s coat in a death grip, knuckles white and fingers shaking.

Koutarou feels very cold all of a sudden, unrelated to the freezing temperatures. The way Kenma said it, it almost sounds like—like—

He doesn’t want to think it’s anything that bad, but everyone around them sucks in a sudden sharp breath and goes pale and he can feel Keiji trembling next to him.

Kageyama’s eyes are wide with shock, but then he curses and stalks off. Koutarou hopes he’s doing what Kenma told him. He hopes that whatever Kenma is planning will help Kuroo.

Kuroo looks terribly weak right now, struggling for air and otherwise limp.

Then Kenma begins unfastening his coat at a rapid pace, and Koutarou startles forward. It’s _freezing_. Is it so Kuroo can breathe better?

Koutarou halts, a second before Keiji puts a hand on his arm to hold him back. He looks over at Keiji, seeing the same worry and loss for what to do that he’s feeling reflected back at him. It doesn’t sit right with Koutarou to just let Kenma do whatever he wants, but unfortunately he seems to be the only one with any idea of how to help Kuroo.

“Guys,” the girl from earlier stutters out quietly. “I know this is important, but the demon—? We could be attacked.”

The other guy, the one with orange hair who has to be Tsukki’s friend Hinata, shrugs helplessly.

Kenma doesn’t answer, either. He pushes up Kuroo’s scarf, and then takes a hold of the hoodie like he wants to pull it up as well. Koutarou grabs his wrists before he can. “Wait!”

Kuroo’s tail is hidden under that. It’s supposed to be a secret! He worked very hard to hide it!

The glare that Kenma shoots at Koutarou has a cold shiver running down his spine. His feathers puff up, and for a moment he almost wants to let Kenma go. Those eyes seem to cut into him, steely and absolutely murderous. But Koutarou doesn’t loosen his hold.

“Let me go,” Kenma hisses. “Don’t get in my way. Do you want him to die?”

Koutarou swallows.

Keiji squeezes his arm. “Bo, he seems to know what he’s doing,” he murmurs quietly.

Koutarou looks down at Kuroo’s pale, shadowed face. He lets go of Kenma’s arms.

Is this the right choice?

He doesn’t know.

“Shit, Kenma, is it really that bad?” Hinata asks, and then gasps a moment later when Kenma has grabbed the hoodie and pulled it up, revealing Kuroo’s fluffy black tail and his heaving chest. “What is _that_?”

Kenma ignores him like he’s ignored almost everything else said to him. Neither Keiji nor Tsukki bother to produce any excuse or explanation, so Koutarou doesn’t, either.

He watches, quiet and confused and shocked and so worried, as Kenma runs his hands over Kuroo’s pale, shivering skin and over the piercings, and then quietly curses again. There’s a moment when Kenma pulls his hands away, digging the nails of one hand into the thumb of his other, and when he brings it back down, he’s smearing blood all over Kuroo’s chest.

“Kenma, what the hell?” Hinata asks, and the girl gasps in shock. Koutarou glances at Keiji, hoping that he will have any idea what is going on, but Keiji’s eyes are fixed on Kuroo’s face and he looks very overwhelmed and helpless.

Kenma draws a circle on Kuroo’s chest, squiggling in some other lines and symbols that Koutarou can’t even begin to make sense of. It can’t take longer than a minute at most, but it seems awfully long to Koutarou. Kuroo’s irregular, weak gasps are getting fainter and fainter, and Koutarou is overcome by the terrifying sense that things are exactly as bad as they seem.

Kuroo really is dying.

But why? And how?

And how the hell is this weird blood circle thing going to fix anything? Does this Kenma, who abandoned Kuroo and made him hide and feel sad, really know what he’s doing?

Kenma doesn’t look so good anymore, either. He’s pale and his hands are shaking and sweat is building on his temple. His eyes have lost the scary edge they held before. They are bloodshot and shiny and looking down at Kuroo with such desperate worry that Koutarou can almost believe that Kenma cares about him after all.

Then Kenma stops drawing on Kuroo with his own blood and raises one trembling arm over him. He murmurs something, long and complicated-sounding, and then, beneath him, Tetsurou gasps loudly.

Koutarou watches, silent and shocked, as Kuroo’s back arches and his chest rises up from the sand. Kuroo’s tail snaps to the side, pressing into the sand like it’s trying to shoot straight out and can’t. It squirms, flicking sand up into the air, and Koutarou only has a moment to think about how much Kuroo will hate having to clean the sand from his fur later, before something very strange happens.

All the fluffy, soft fur disappears. Kuroo’s tail gets smooth and slim and thin, with an arrow-shaped tip.

Keiji gasps quietly next to him, and Koutarou feels a shiver go down his spine. This can’t be right. Kuroo isn’t supposed to look like this, and now he definitely looks more like something that he’s been trying to hide all this time.

What is Kenma _doing_?

Koutarou wants to stop him, or at least yell at him, but there’s no time. Kuroo sucks in air, sharp and rattling, back arching up further, and then from one second to the next changes even more.

The beanie Keiji leant him drops to the sand, pushed away by red horns that are much longer than the ones Koutarou saw last night when they clashed with Oikawa. Kuroo’s ears look like they did back then, more human-like but long and pointed. Kuroo’s hands flex, fingers sharpening into claws and turning pitch-black. From beneath Kuroo’s arched back, something huge and black shoots out. Koutarou and Keiji have to jump away to avoid getting hit by it, and Koutarou watches in disbelief as big, bat-like wings unfold in the sand to his feet, looking almost twice as long as he is tall. The odd bitter tang that has been sitting at the back of Koutarou’s throat for a while now intensifies so much, so suddenly, that it almost makes him throw up.

Kuroo makes a small sound and drops back down, limp.

The girl from earlier screams.

“Kenma, what—” Hinata yelps, grabbing Kenma’s shoulders and pulling him back. Kenma comes along like a ragdoll, looking feverish and like he’s moments away from joining Kuroo in unconsciousness. His eyes are all weird, almost glowing. They look like Kuroo’s did, reflecting their flashlights, but Kenma’s eyes didn’t do that before.

“What did you _do_?” Keiji chokes out, eyes frantic. His hands hover over Kuroo’s new wings, like he wants to touch them and can’t bring himself to.

Koutarou's fingers twitch towards his backpack where one of their countless copies of the demon permit for Kuroo is stored away. Kuroo looks like that will be needed now.

What has Kenma done to him? Kuroo has tried so hard to keep this part of himself hidden, for such a long time, because it could put him in serious danger if people found out. Kenma doesn’t even know they managed to get a permit for him. He put Kuroo in so much danger by exposing him like this!

Hell, even Kenma’s friends look like they want to fight Kuroo on the spot, despite him still being passed out. A thorny vine has grown from the girl’s cupped hands and small flames are licking at Hinata’s open palm, like they’re both just waiting for Kuroo to twitch the wrong way to take him out.

But—as much as Koutarou hates to give Kenma any credit, Kuroo does look better. Very undeniably demonic, certainly, but his breathing is smoother and deeper, like he’s peacefully asleep instead of clinging to the last shreds of life.

“That’s the demon,” the girl gasps, pale and shaking. “We—how? Did it impersonate Kozume-san?”

“It almost looks like he’s possessed,” Hinata mutters, eyes wide.

Kenma shakes his head. He pushes at Hinata’s arm until he’s let go, stumbling forward to fall back down at Kuroo’s side. “He’s not,” he says quietly. Wary, reflective eyes glance up to look over Koutarou and Keiji and Tsukki.

Is he trying to find out how they feel about this?

Kenma seems to come to some kind of conclusion, because he nods almost imperceptibly to himself. “We have to get him out of here,” he murmurs, one hand carding through Kuroo’s hair despite the huge horns there. “The ambient demonic energy of this place is probably making him worse.”

“What—Kenma!” Hinata squawks. “We have to do something about the demon! We can’t just—how did Kozume-san even get like this?”

Kenma stays stubbornly silent.

He still doesn’t want to tell these people that Kuroo has always been part demon, Koutarou realizes. Though he wonders how Kenma plans on keeping that a secret any longer.

“The portal is ready. What’s going on— _holy shit_!” Kageyama yelps, stopping short as he joins their small group.

In the distance behind him, Koutarou sees a shimmering plane framed by a ring of ice. That has to be the portal.

Kageyama’s hands circle, drawing up a row of sharp shards of ice, all of them pointed at Kuroo. “Kozume, get back!”

“It’s fine,” Kenma insists quietly. “We should go.”

“Kenma, shouldn’t we help Kozume-san first?” Hinata asks.

“Can this shit infect _people_ now?” Kageyama gasps, eyes narrowed. “We can’t take him anywhere like this! He’ll end up killing someone!”

Slow and shaky, Kenma staggers up onto his feet. He glares at his companions. “He’s fine.”

“He looks like a demon,” the girl says quietly.

“Kenma,” Hinata mutters, beseeching.

“We all said it ourselves,” Kageyama hisses. “We can’t let any of them leave this realm. People will die! That thing is probably not even Kozume Tetsurou.”

Hinata wrings his hands. “What weird spell did you do on him? Shouldn’t we separate Kozume-san from the demon? Won't he be fine then? What is going _on_ with you?”

“We can’t let another infected demon get into the human realm,” Kageyama bites out. “I’m closing the portal!”

“No, don’t!” Kenma protests, wobbling forward. Hinata’s flames disappear and he catches Kenma before he falls over. “We have to get him out of here, right now.”

“I’m not enabling that demon on his murder spree,” Kageyama hisses.

Even listening to their argument, Koutarou has no idea what is going on. It doesn’t help that they don’t seem to have any idea, either. They don’t know what Kuroo is or why this is happening to him. Kenma is the only one with any knowledge of the situation, but he’s stubbornly keeping it all to himself.

What is all this bullshit about possession and infections and killing people? Kuroo is harmless. He’s kind and rational and wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s also still passed out.

Kenma said he was dying. They should be doing something to help him.

Unsure, Koutarou glances at his friends. Keiji looks pale. His hand hasn’t moved at all from where it’s hovering over Kuroo’s new wings. Tsukki is standing a bit further back, glaring at all of them in general. His eyes keep glancing from Kuroo to the portal, and that’s—

That’s a brilliant idea, actually.

About the only thing Koutarou got so far is that this place seems to be making Kuroo worse. They should get him away from here as soon as possible, before Kageyama actually does close the portal.

Let those guys fight about what Kuroo is and whether he’s dangerous. Koutarou knows exactly that Kuroo isn’t anything evil.

He wraps his arms around Kuroo and pulls him up. All the blood on Kuroo’s chest is probably smearing into Koutarou’s jacket, but they have bigger problems right now. It’s difficult to get Kuroo up into his arms. The wings are gigantic, dragging limply on the ground right between Koutarou’s feet, and they’re so heavy that they’re throwing him off. He can hardly balance and almost ends up stepping on one of them.

“Bokuto,” Keiji says quietly. “Wait.”

Koutarou looks at him.

“I—” Keiji falters. His eyes are huge and tear-shot, and his fingers keep curling into the bottom of his jacket, and Koutarou for once has absolutely no clue what he’s getting at.

Then Tsukki is there, taking a hold of Kuroo’s wings and awkwardly holding them up next to Koutarou so that he can walk.

Off to the side, Kageyama and Hinata are yelling at each other, with Kenma and the girl occasionally throwing in something quiet that only stokes the argument higher. Koutarou thinks they should really use this opportunity to get to the portal, before anyone catches on. They can worry about the rest when they’ve made it out of this place.

He and Tsukki walk side by side. Kuroo doesn’t move at all. Keiji ambles a few steps behind them, expression pinched and scared and unhappy. Koutarou desperately wants to ask him what’s wrong, but with Kuroo’s life on the line, this is not the time for it.

They almost make it to the portal before they’re noticed.

“No, wait!” Kageyama calls out. Koutarou looks over his shoulder to see the whole group of them stop their fighting to run over to them.

But, well—fuck Kageyama. He thinks Kuroo is some kind of dangerous monster, which he’s _not_ , and Koutarou definitely won’t give him the chance to close the portal and keep Kuroo here any longer.

His eyes meet Tsukki’s, and they both nod, hurrying up.

They fall more than walk into the portal.

It feels cold, almost like water, as Koutarou plunges into it. And then something changes, a howling starting up around them as the cool blue colors get darker and muddied. They almost seem to stand still, for a moment, like the portal doesn’t want to let them pass.

And then they’re pulled forward.

Koutarou screams as Kuroo is ripped from his arms. He falls, breathless, down onto a cold, soft ground. A branch digs into his side painfully.

He sits up, taking in the dark forest around him.

Keiji, Kuroo, and Tsukki are nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Kei never thought he would end up alone in a forest at night ever in his life, and he has to say, he hates it very much. He can’t see anything, even with the flashlight app of his phone which is rapidly running out of charge, he fell about three times already, he has no idea which way to go to get out, and worst of all, that’s not even his biggest problem.

Somewhere out here, Kuroo and Bokuto have to be, but _where_? And what is even going on?

Kei has never regretted it so much that he doesn’t understand magic. Now Kuroo is deep into some kind of demon mess and it’s all very grave and urgent, and Kei is standing on the sidelines like a dumb child who doesn’t understand a word. He doesn’t understand anything. All that he knows is that Akaashi looked completely thrown by what happened, and that more than anything else tells Kei that shit is bad and out of control.

He has to find Akaashi, who will hopefully know more about what is going on than Kei does and make some constructive suggestions for what they should do now. And Kei has to find Kuroo, who has turned into some very weird demon monster thing.

He thought that Kuroo’s appearance last night with Oikawa was as demonic as he could look. Did he assume wrong? Is Kuroo going to turn into one of those giant black creatures? Is he still in danger? This Kenma made it sound like Kuroo was minutes away from dying, and Kei isn’t one to panic needlessly, but is he—

Is Kuroo going to be alright?

Kei has to find him. Him and Akaashi, and then figure something out.

It would figure that the first person Kei spots is Bokuto.

Kei is annoyed for maybe one second, because Bokuto is not one of the most relevant people to find right now and despite their short-lived make-up Kei still hasn’t entirely forgotten how much they’ve been fighting lately. But then Kei gets close enough to see the fear in Bokuto’s expression.

He’s facing almost away from Kei, and when Kei follows his line of sight, he sees him.

Kuroo is still in that creepy demonic form. Those huge black wings are behind him, flared out a little but mostly hanging down, dragging against trees and fallen leaves uncaringly. The coat and hoodie are hanging from him in tatters. The red horns and black claws and shark-like teeth are all too new and unfamiliar. But the worst are the eyes.

Objectively, Kuroo’s eyes haven’t changed at all. It’s the same slitted pupils against a gold iris as before. Yet somehow, they are the most different thing about him.

Kuroo is looking at Bokuto, empty and threatening and like he doesn’t recognize him at all. His slim black tail is whipping through the air behind him, a low growl rising from him as he slowly advances on Bokuto. Bokuto is stumbling more than walking backwards, hands raised in front of himself defensively and something desperate flashing over his face.

“No, Kuroo, hey—it’s me, come on—”

Kei does something very stupid in that moment, without thinking, or maybe exactly because he’s not thinking.

He steps out of the underbrush next to Bokuto, facing Kuroo as well.

“Tsukki,” Bokuto gasps, not even turning all the way to face him, but instead stepping forward like he wants to put himself between Kei and Kuroo. That tells Kei exactly how dire this situation is.

He doesn’t know how long Bokuto has been trying to get through to Kuroo. It can’t have been more than maybe five minutes since they stepped through that portal, but there is no telling if Bokuto and Kuroo ended up in the same place or if Bokuto had to search for Kuroo through the dark forest by the burnt smell alone, much like Kei has.

What Kei is guessing, at least, is that Bokuto has tried his fair share of “Kuroo” and “stop” and “don’t” and “it’s me”, so if they want to have any hope of getting through to him, they’ll have to try something else.

“Tetsurou,” Kei says, not daring to raise his voice too much, but still loud enough to carry.

Kuroo’s head snaps his way, but there is no recognition in his face at all. Kei swallows, fighting the urge to step back and actually hide behind Bokuto. The growl that’s rasping from Kuroo has a shiver going down his spine.

This thing in front of them doesn’t seem like Kuroo at all. Kei is beginning to understand why everyone else is so wary of demons.

“Tetsurou,” he tries again, “you know us. Please calm down.”

“It’s us, Kuroo,” Bokuto adds on. “Bokuto and Tsukki. Yeah?”

The demon’s growl doesn’t change. He inches forward, one step after the other, slow and measured and almost like he’s _hunting_ them and trying not to startle his prey.

Kei is scared.

He’ll admit it. This is not Kuroo. Not at all. This is something different, a monster that does not care about them at all, and neither he nor Bokuto stand any chance against it.

He’s desperate, fingers clenched into fists but still shaking, and he tries the last thing he can think of. In his most dominating tone of voice, he snaps, “Tetsurou, stop this!”

It’s sudden and unexpected when the demon launches forward, snarling loudly and claws raised. Kei doesn’t even have time to react before Bokuto is shoving him to the side, a fraction of a second before the demon barrels into him.

Kei falls down, disoriented and glasses askew, everything too dark and in chaos, but he still hears Bokuto _scream_.

His blood freezes to ice in his veins.

“Bokuto!” he shouts, righting his glasses as he scrambles to get up. Kei’s eyes grow wet and hot as he spots Bokuto, pinned against a tree by the demon. One of Bokuto’s sleeves is torn, smudged with blood—but he’s alive, thank all.

A small part of Kei, even, is grateful when the demon’s eyes turn his way at his shout, eerie and wild. But mostly, Kei is terrified when the demon abandons Bokuto and instead comes his way.

He still looks so much like Kuroo, except for the horns and teeth and claws and wings.

It _is_ Kuroo.

It used to be.

Kei doesn’t make it very far at all before the demon is on him. Kei hits the rough forest ground, gasping as one set of black claws grabs his throat and pushes him down. The demon, with Kuroo’s mouth, hisses threateningly.

“Tsukki!” Bokuto calls, panicked and wheezing, making Kei question how badly hurt he really is. It’s not the most pressing matter, though.

The narrowed eyes of the demon above him, the furious snarl, the sharp teeth, really have Kei wondering if he is going to make it out of this alive.

“Tetsurou,” he rasps out, unable to speak any louder. Shakily, he curls his hands around the wrist of the black claw that is pressing down on his throat.

He doesn’t know what to do anymore. This isn’t Kuroo. It’s a demon and he looks like he wants to kill Kei and Kei is _so scared_. He never thought he would die like this, but now the fear is swallowing him whole.

“Tetsurou, I don’t, I— _red_ , please, stop, _please, fuck, Tetsurou_ —”

The hiss above him grows louder, and Kei feels numb and cold. He's too scared to look at the demon any longer. He doesn’t want to see it coming.

With his fear choking him up, it takes a moment until he realizes that the claw on his throat is easing off marginally.

Shocked, Kei looks up.

“Kuroo, please,” Bokuto chokes out. He has both his arms wrapped tightly around Kuroo’s middle, getting almost lost behind the looming black wings. It’s not really stopping the demon from moving, but it seems to bother him enough that his attention isn’t on killing Kei, at least for the moment. “Buddy. Please. It’s us. It’s Tsukki. You can’t hurt _Tsukki_.”

For one agonizing second, Kei’s tongue is like lead his mouth. He can’t say anything. Can’t bring himself to draw the demon’s attention back to himself, even though it’s struggling against Bokuto’s hold and it’s only a matter of moments before it will break free and rip more of those deep gauges into Bokuto. The demon is squirming, growing visibly more furious as Bokuto keeps holding on. Bokuto is grunting in pain at the pull against his injured arm, or maybe he’s also hurt somewhere else.

A few drops of blood fall down, landing hotly against Kei’s cheek.

Kei whimpers, more shocked than anything else, and instantly golden, soulless eyes settle on him.

“Tetsurou,” he gasps out, weak and scratchy with the claw that is still pressing against his throat.

The demon leans forward and Bokuto grunts as he tries to pull sharp teeth away from Kei’s face. He’s not strong enough to stop it, though.

This is it. This is how it ends.

Kei catches sight of Bokuto’s terrified eyes and can’t take it. With tears burning high up on his cheeks, he closes his eyes.

The demon’s growl tapers off.

The silence is deafening, safe for the faint rustle of leaves.

“K—Kei—?”

The question comes haltingly. The voice is small and hesitant.

Kei sucks in a sharp breath and looks up.

Kuroo is looking back down at him, golden eyes filling slowly with wetness, and his expression is just as scared as Kei feels. Just as shocked as Bokuto’s, right behind him. The claw on Kei’s throat begins to shake, and then Kuroo pulls it away.

“Tetsurou,” Kei breathes, his eyes filling with tears anew, but this time ones of sheer relief.

“Kei,” Kuroo sobs, and he sounds terrible. He pulls further back. “What did I—”

Bokuto’s arms squeeze tightly around Kuroo, more like a hug now than a desperate hold. Kei thinks he hears a stifled sob.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Kei hurries to assure Kuroo. They can’t have him freaking out again. “Calm down first, okay—”

Kuroo’s breath hitches, and from one second to the next he changes again.

His claws thrust down into the ground next to Kei’s head, digging grooves into the earth. His lips pull back in a new snarl, baring those awfully sharp teeth.

Kei flinches back, and realizes only a moment later that Kuroo isn’t looking at him but somewhere off into the distance. Bokuto stops mid-twitch forward, arms still halfway around Kuroo. His eyes, wide and watchful, skim over the trees where Kuroo is glaring. Kei follows their line of sight.

He’s only hoping that it’s not Akaashi who Kuroo is snarling at right now. Not that the prospect of it being anyone else is charming, either.

Before Kei can make out who it is in the cursedly dark forest, he notices the glint of a blade. Kuroo snarls louder, wings rising up behind him, but he doesn’t move from where he’s still pushing Kei into the ground.

Kei is a little in wonder if Kuroo is trying to protect him, and very much worried that Kuroo is back to being a feral demon who doesn’t recognize them at all.

“What the _fuck_?” someone hisses, shocked and raspy. Kei struggles to place the voice. A moment later, Sawamura steps out between the trees, a fucking sword clutched in his hands. He looks pale, but the blade in his hands seems steady. It doesn’t waver, even as pain twists over his features. “ _Tetsu_?”

Bokuto shoves himself between them, facing Sawamura. “Don’t hurt him!” he calls out, holding out his arms. The one that is torn up and bleeding isn’t rising all the way. “He looks scary but it’s still him!”

Kei could almost admire Bokuto for having the nerve to defend Kuroo, moments after Kuroo was trying to kill them both—if it didn’t seem so foolish.

“What—” Sawamura’s eyes skip over all of them in turn rapidly.

Kuroo shifts, minutely, from where he’s hovering over Kei. His wings sink, like they’re drooping to the ground. “Daichi,” he rasps out.

Even with the distance between them, Kei can hear Sawamura’s breath hitch. “How the _hell_ —” he bites himself off, shaking his head. “Tetsu, is that really you?”

Kuroo visibly shrinks down. He looks down at his claws, at Kei—who has to admit he’s still a fair bit terrified of demon Kuroo and probably looks the part—at Bokuto with his bleeding arm.

“I’m—” Kuroo breaks off. Shudders.

Kei realizes that since he was passed out, Kuroo doesn’t even know what happened to make him look this way.

“It’s him!” Bokuto insists in his place, not wavering in the slightest. “So please put down that sword.”

“Bo,” Kuroo gasps, wings shaking. “You’re hurt, how—did I—” His voice breaks.

Bokuto smiles at Kuroo over his shoulder, probably trying to look reassuring but Kei doesn’t miss how pale and clammy his skin is. He has to be in pain. “It’s alright.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Kuroo huffs, and it almost sounds like a sob. His eyes are suspiciously wet.

Behind Bokuto, Sawamura lets his sword sink and brings a hand up to his ear. “Suga, Ryuu, hold off. Things are—” he pauses, nods his head like he’s listening, “—I don’t know. Come see for yourself.”

More people then. Great.

Kei has his doubts if they’ll be able to talk their way out of this one with the measly paper they got from Oikawa. The way Kuroo looks now is a far cry from what he turned into last night. This form is way larger and scarier, and it’s obvious that Kuroo can’t even control this himself. He actually does pose a danger to other people this way.

But he also looks moments away from crying, eyes still fixed on Bokuto’s injured arm. Bokuto mutters hushed assurances that it’s just a scratch and that he probably just moved too suddenly and that he’s done his fair share of accidentally hurting Kuroo, too, so now they’re even. That only seems to make things worse.

Kei, for his part, finds that he doesn’t have the strength to say anything.

It’s cold on the forest ground, and he can’t get up because Kuroo is still kneeling over him, and it’s the middle of the night and Kei is so tired and—drained.

For a moment there, he thought Kuroo would kill him.

His chest still feels too tight to breathe, cold dread clinging to his bones and not letting go, no matter how much Kuroo seems to be back to himself right now.

Who is to say that Kuroo won’t lose control like that again, any moment now?

Rustling between the trees draws Kei’s attention away from his thoughts. Almost at the same time, Akaashi, Kozume and Hinata rush up to them from one side, while Sugawara and Tanaka carefully sidle closer from behind Sawamura.

“What the _shit_ —” Tanaka yelps as soon as he spots Kuroo.

Kozume staggers over the forest ground and practically throws himself into Kuroo’s arms, unheeding of the fact that Kei is still trapped beneath him. Kozume’s hands clutch at Kuroo’s torn coat, and Kuroo’s arms close around Kozume in what seems like sheer instinct. There’s a hitched sob, and Kei doesn’t know which one of them it’s coming from.

“Kuro, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Kozume presses out, raspy and so quiet that Kei can barely hear it, even trapped right underneath them.

“s’alright,” Kuroo murmurs softly, just as quiet. Kei is getting the sense that he is intruding on a very private conversation here. He wonders if it’s worth the effort of calling attention to himself to wiggle out of this and get some distance. In the end, he stays silent. Watches as Kozume frantically shakes his head.

“No, Kuro, no—I don’t know how to fix this.”

Kuroo is silent for a moment. Tentatively, he says, “Kenma, I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Another sob. This one definitely Kozume’s, from the way his whole body shakes with it. “You’re dying,” he whispers.

Kei suddenly can’t breathe anymore.

Another pause. Then, cautiously but with a surprising amount of calmness, Kuroo asks, “When?”

“A day,” Kozume croaks out. “Maybe half.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything. Just squeezes Kozume tightly against his chest, who muffles another sob into Kuroo’s scarf. His wings flutter weakly, the slim black tail curling around Kozume’s waist.

Their hushed conversation seems to be over with that, and Kei is suddenly uncomfortably aware that he is the only one privy to the information that apparently, Kuroo will die _very fucking soon_.

Kei doesn’t know what to say. It seems surreal.

He avoids looking at Kuroo and Kozume any longer, who are still hugging basically on top of him like he doesn’t exist. Sawamura, Sugawara, and Tanaka have all huddled together, whispering to each other furiously and occasionally, not-so-subtly pointing into Kuroo’s direction. A bit off to the side, Akaashi is fussing over Bokuto’s injured arm, throwing more than one uneasy glance Kuroo's way. Kei can get the sentiment, so soon after being attacked himself, but he is also incapable of thinking about anything related to Kuroo right now without his brain short-circuiting at the possibility that Kuroo could be dead tomorrow.

He thought Kuroo was past the worst of it after Kozume’s weird blood circle spell. He was—

Isn’t it—

Kozume said he doesn’t know how to fix this. Does that mean they’ll just sit around and watch it happen?

Still lying on the forest ground, Kei somehow can’t bring himself do anything. He wouldn’t know what. He doesn’t even have it in him to draw Kuroo’s attention back to himself. To ask them to please get off of him already. He can’t make them aware that he’s right here. That he just overheard them talking about—

About—

Kei can’t even _think_ it, it’s—

Everything is too much, too horrible. And in this moment, Kei is terribly aware of how _powerless_ he is to do anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, would you look at that. I sure am glad that nothing bad happened this chapter and everything is resolved now. Would have been a real bummer if this mess had dragged on with even more cliffhangers ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿  
> (for real tho, I'm sorry, I thought this would be a short little action plot thing and it didn't stay short because nothing about this fic ever stays short, but I promise you it will end at some point)
> 
> Also please know that I really, really loved all the theories you guys shared about what could be wrong with Kuroo and I'm really sorry you're not getting answers yet! To make up for it, this chapter has a few more puzzle pieces for you (if you can spot them in between all of the suffering) :>


	17. Man Who Thought He’d Lost All Hope Loses Last Additional Bit Of Hope He Didn’t Even Know He Still Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since several people have asked now, I just wanted to say that you can totally message me on [tumblr](http://onyx-stars.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/StarsOnyx) or ask for my discord if you want to yell at me about this fic! You will gain exclusive access to me complaining about stuff, such as:
> 
>   * writing
>   * editing
>   * wanting to write but not having time
>   * the fact that my friend was able to plank longer than me
>   * wanting to write just a little bit and then not stopping for three hours as I become a mere vessel to the soul of this fic
> 

> 
> And if you don't want to hear me complaining, just have fun reading this chapter!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this (once again) really fast update. This time, you shall finally have some answers about what's going on ;)

Eventually, Kozume straightens up from where he was seemingly trying to crawl into Kuroo’s chest. His eyes are still red, but dry. “I’ll put a cloaking spell on you,” he says, his voice a little raspy. “We’ll get you out of here, and then we’ll figure something out.”

A thin, wobbly smile builds on Kuroo’s lips. “That’s my Kenma.”

Kozume flicks his nose with a pinched, little frown, startling a chuckle from Kuroo.

Hesitantly, Hinata steps closer to them. Kei almost forgot about him. “Kenma? What is going on?”

Right. Kei would like to know that, too.

The rest of the group seems to take that as a sign, all of them creeping closer with their own very interested looks, some of them more suspicious than others.

“Is Tetsu—possessed?” Sawamura asks hesitantly. Kei doesn’t miss that even as his arm is hanging down, his grip on the sword is still firm and he hasn’t sheathed it.

Kozume’s brows draw together into a very tight, very unhappy line, matching his pursed mouth. His fingers are drumming a nervous rhythm into Kuroo’s side, until Kuroo slides his own hand over them and squeezes.

“It’s alright,” Kuroo says quietly. “We can’t hide it forever, Kenma.”

Another moment passes between them, before Kozume closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they are shining with a determination that they didn’t hold before. He nods to Kuroo, and then he turns towards the rest of them.

“Kuroo is part demon,” he says, loud and clear and far calmer than Kei expected him to be. “I know it’s asking a lot, but please let him go. He needs help and we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Well, what else do you expect us to do?” Sawamura asks dryly, and then he laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. “Kill him?”

There is a very pregnant, painful silence, as neither Kozume nor Kuroo will meet his eyes.

Sawamura falters. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Shit, Tetsu, I thought some demon had taken over your body. If it’s actually you in there, you know I wouldn’t—” He trails off.

Kuroo is still accusingly silent. Kei thinks, if Kuroo still had his cat ears, they’d be drooping right now.

“What are we supposed to do?” Tanaka asks. “Just let him go?”

Sawamura rounds on him with an angry look. “What, you want to hand him over to the Coven? It’ll be his death sentence!”

Tanaka brings up his hands. “Whoa, hey, hold on. I’m not saying that. I just think it’s a _little_ weird that Tetsurou is supposed to have been a demon all along and none of us ever noticed! Our place is warded to hell and back! You guys spent whole _days_ fucking him and you’re telling me nothing was ever a little bit strange to you? It’s fucking weird, is what it is!”

“We have a permit. He’s not dangerous!” Bokuto throws in, patting around in his ripped coat.

“A permit?” Kozume asks, disbelieving, throwing Kuroo a wary look.

Kuroo shrugs. “I’ll explain later.”

“He’s only part demon. It’s perfectly possible that you didn’t notice,” Akaashi says calmly, face the perfect picture of careful neutrality. His knuckles are white where he’s clutching Bokuto’s coat.

Sugawara shakes his head. His eyes, filling with tears, are set on Kuroo who is shrinking down under that look. “A demon? All this time?” he chokes out. “And you never— _we_ never—” He breaks off, and Kei thinks he’ll crumble entirely before he suddenly steps forward, pointing accusingly at Kuroo. “How many times did we hook up, huh? How much did we share with you? What were you _thinking, lying_ to us all this time—”

“Suga,” Sawamura mutters, trying to shush him, “Suga, hey—” He wraps an arm around Sugawara’s middle, the one not still holding the sword, and Sugawara struggles against his hold.

“Kenma, I don’t understand,” Hinata mutters, eyes wide. “I’ve known you guys for years. You said—”

Kozume shrugs his shoulders, and Kei would think him unaffected, judging by his expression, if he wasn’t so furtively avoiding Hinata’s gaze. “I lied,” he huffs. “I was the best I could come up with to keep Tetsurou safe.”

Kuroo nuzzles the side of his face, and Kozume curls into it.

Hinata’s shoulders slump like Kozume has just shattered everything he’s ever known to be true.

Kozume buries his hands in Kuroo’s messy hair and begins muttering. It takes a moment for Kei to realize that they’re not exchanging more world-shattering secrets, but that it’s a spell. It could be that cloaking spell Kozume mentioned earlier, but Kei doesn’t know for sure. He’s really starting to _hate_ that he doesn’t know anything about magic. Maybe he should learn something. Are there beginner’s classes anywhere?

Sawamura exchanges a wary look with a still fuming Sugawara and a wary Tanaka. They murmur something between them, before Sawamura straightens up, just as Kozume finishes up his spell. The terrible bitter stench in the air fades away.

“We’ll tell the Coven that we killed the demon,” Sawamura says. “They won’t bother you then.”

Kuroo’s brows shoot up. “Guys, you don’t have to do that,” he rasps out. “You could get into so much trouble for that.”

“Well, that’s what we’re doing, so deal with it,” Sugawara snaps at Kuroo none too kindly.

Kuroo audibly closes his mouth shut.

“We’ll have to find a way to hide your wings,” Kozume mutters, running is hands across one of them which makes Kuroo shudder.

Apparently, they have moved on to the next problem now. It makes sense. They are on a time limit, with Kuroo—

Kei clears his throat. “Would you mind moving off of me?”

“Oh,” Kozume says, like he’s noticing Kei only now. “Sorry.”

Kuroo shoots him an apologetic look as he shuffles off, allowing Kei to finally sit up from the freezing ground. Kozume is still patting his hands over his wings, and Sugawara joins him in that a moment later.

“Maybe we could disguise them instead of hiding them entirely?” Sugawara suggests. “It would be easier.”

“We’d need a model,” Kozume mutters. “Feathers?”

“I have feathers,” Bokuto pipes up, and both of them turn towards him. He doesn’t squirm, just gives them a determined look. “If that helps any.”

“It does,” Sugawara says softly.

Bokuto immediately begins shrugging out of his coat, with some help and some protest from Akaashi due to his injured arm. As soon as his hoodie is pulled over his head, Bokuto shivers. “Fuck, it’s really cold.”

Both Sugawara and Kozume are watching the feathers on Bokuto’s shoulders with no small amount of fascination. Kei can’t claim not to be doing the same. He knows that Bokuto gets them, since he complains about them itching a lot. But they only grow in during winter when Bokuto wears long-sleeved shirts, so Kei doesn’t usually get to see them. He’s pretty sure that Akaashi is feeling possessive of Bokuto like this. All Kei gets are glances, sometimes.

Akaashi is not saying anything now, though, as Sugawara kneels down at Bokuto’s back and runs his fingers through the feathers.

“Take as many as you need,” Bokuto says easily.

Kuroo shuffles closer to him. “Bo, you don’t have to do this,” he mutters, and his voice comes out dangerously wobbly. “None of you do.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” Bokuto shrugs, eyes open and earnest as he smiles at Kuroo. Kuroo slumps and looks away.

What does it feel like, Kei wonders, to be suddenly told that you won’t live to the end of the day?

Bokuto doesn’t even know yet. Kuroo is not dropping a single syllable about it. Kozume looks eerily calm as he quietly talks to Sawamura and Tanaka. And the only other person who was close enough to maybe hear it is Hinata, who’s squirming around uneasily at Kozume’s side like a nervous child.

Kei walks up to him, waiting until he gets his attention. “Where are Kageyama and the girl?”

Hinata’s shoulders draw up. “They stayed back. Kenma insisted that we need to figure this out, and fast, since—” His eyes fall down to Kuroo.

Does Hinata know what is wrong with him? What have those four been doing, all those weeks in the In-Between?

Kei desperately wants to know, but he’s not even sure if he would understand anything Hinata told him. He hates this. He hates not knowing anything. He hates not understanding the basic rules of what they’re dealing with. He hates that there is nothing he can do to help Kuroo.

He’s useless.

Sugawara has picked a few feathers of varying size from Bokuto’s shoulders, and Bokuto is slipping back into his clothes with help from Akaashi while Sugawara ties a string around the feathers, forming a necklace, and then mutters more spells over them. It doesn’t take long before he’s done with it, holding the thing out to Kuroo. “Here.”

Kuroo takes it and slips it over his head. A little amazed, Kei watches as the black surface of Kuroo’s wings ripples and then is overtaken by feathers in various shades of white and gray and black. The red horns on Kuroo’s head shimmer and fade away like they were never there, and the pointed edges of Kuroo’s ears and his sharp teeth smooth out, making him look human—except for the tail that still curls uneasily in the air, until Kuroo pulls it in to hide underneath his torn hoodie.

Kei can’t help but think that he looks almost like an angel this way. Kei isn’t much into European beliefs, but it still has him thinking of passing on, and dying, and then there is a bitter taste crawling up in the back of his throat at seeing Kuroo like this.

Like it’s already over.

Kozume musters Kuroo’s appearance for a moment before he nods. “It’ll do,” he says. “Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Where are we going?” Hinata asks, not flinching under Kozume’s sharp look.

“Sawamura-kun says you have books on demons,” he says, mostly looking at Sugawara who nods. “We might find something there to help Kuroo.”

He starts walking, and seeing as staying behind alone in a dark forest is not an option, everyone else follows. Kuroo falls into step at Kozume’s side like he belongs there.

He does. Those two have been together for so much longer than Kei has known Kuroo.

“Kenma, is this what we’ve seen with the other demons?” Hinata asks quietly, but Kei still hears.

Kozume doesn't answer, just trudges on.

Sawamura is slipping past him, leading their way out of the forest. The look on his face is pinched and unhappy. “Kozume, what is going on? We’re always willing to help you guys, but—why is Tetsu suddenly looking like this?”

Kei would like to know that, too. As far as he can tell, it was Kozume’s weird blood spell that made Kuroo look this way. And that was after Kuroo passed out. It really makes no sense at all to Kei, and it’s a little reassuring that he’s not the only one who doesn’t have any clue what’s happening.

Kozume sighs, the sound so sharp that it almost sounds like a hiss. “Shouyou,” he huffs, “could you please explain to Sawamura-kun what we’ve been doing?”

“Uh,” Hinata mutters, “Kenma, I have no idea what’s going on, either.”

“Just—tell him,” Kozume presses out, and this time it definitely sounds like a hiss. Almost like Kuroo does sometimes. Kei has to wonder, especially with the way Kozume’s eyes keep glinting in their flashlights, so similar to Kuroo’s—

Hinata’s shoulders slump. He doesn’t slow his march behind Kozume, though. Like everyone else, Kei shuffles a bit closer to hear. Kuroo, especially, looks very intrigued, and Kei is reminded that all this time, Kuroo was sitting at their place because Kozume told him to wait and hide and _nothing else_. Kuroo doesn’t know what is happening any more than the rest of them do.

Nervously, Hinata clears his throat. “So, I guess you all know that there have been more attacks from demons lately, and everyone’s thinking it’s some coordinated effort from their side. We’ve been—Kageyama and I were asked by the Coven to help protect people, and we had to fight one that was really strong but—it seemed weird to us. Somehow. Usually the stronger demons are smarter, too, but that one didn’t speak at all. So we asked Kenma and Yachi-san to help us look into it, since they both know so much. We thought there would be some easy explanation, but the more we found, the—stranger everything got.”

He pauses for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. Kei could strangle him for the unnecessary pause.

“All the reports we found were about really strong demons that didn’t seem to be _thinking_ at all,” Hinata mutters. “And then there was an even weirder incident, where everyone thought a woman got possessed by a strong demon, but as we looked into it—Kenma figured out that she was actually a half-demon, hiding and living in the city, until one day she just. Snapped. And grew claws and wings and started killing her neighbors.”

Something cold and ugly squeezes around Kei’s heart. That sounds familiar.

“And there were other weird things, too,” Hinata goes on. “We looked at it all more closely, and we noticed that the alarms called in to the Coven were sometimes—late.”

“How do you mean?” Sawamura asks, frowning. “It’s pretty noticeable when a demon attacks.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the thing,” Hinata says. “We started checking for demonic magic ourselves, and there would be these spikes in some places, and then a few hours later someone would call the Coven and report a rampaging demon. We tried to make it to one place first, and we found—”

He breaks off.

Worries his lower lip.

Kei sort of wants to yell at him to keep going and not drag this out, but he also has a feeling that he’s not going to like what comes next.

“We found a demon,” Hinata says, very quietly. “He was panicking. His magic was growing stronger and stronger and he was losing control of himself. We tried to help him, but—nothing worked. He lost control and started attacking us, and then a few minutes later the Coven showed up and killed him.”

Something awful settles in Kei’s chest. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Akaashi squeezing Bokuto’s hand. He wonders if Akaashi is beginning to catch on that this is what has to be happening to Kuroo.

That they don’t know how to stop this or how to help him.

Kei wishes he had someone to hold his hand through this, too.

“We—we figured,” Hinata swallows and goes on, “from that, that there had to be someone else involved. The Coven was too late to be reacting to spikes in demonic magic, and too early to react to reports of someone being attacked. So there has to be a third party out there, monitoring things, and calling the Coven just in time to find a raving mad demon who’s about to hurt someone. It all kind of looks like there’s someone behind all of this, possibly even _causing_ it, and at the point where we figured that out, we had to assume that they knew we were involved. We didn’t want to drag more people into this, so we decided to stay on it and get to the bottom of it ourselves.”

Kei sees Kozume and Kuroo exchange a look, and wonders if that was when Kozume told Kuroo to hide at their place. As much as Kei has doubted Kozume’s intentions to come back for Kuroo at times—he has to admit that he wouldn’t know what else to do in that situation, either. It sounds like there is some sinister plot in motion that’s targeting demons and part-demons, and Kozume was most likely just trying to keep Kuroo away from it all. So Kuroo would be safe and not have his magic increase and not turn into a murderous monster.

Yet here they are.

“The demons themselves—they can’t stop it,” Hinata goes on. “Their power suddenly spikes until it consumes them. They go mad with it, and since then we managed to stop some and keep them contained, but even then—their magic just gets stronger until their body can’t hold up anymore. They all die after a few hours.”

“So that’s it, then?” Sugawara asks, the look in his teary eyes sharp. “Tetsurou is going to die?”

Kuroo doesn’t even flinch, just keeps walking. Kozume remains straight-faced as well.

“From what we figured out, it usually takes around eight hours between the first increase in magic and death,” Kozume says, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. “It should be slower with Tetsurou since he’s only one fourth demon. I can only assume when things started, but we should have twelve hours at least.”

“And we’ll do what?” Sugawara asks.

Kozume’s shoulders draw up, even as his expression remains blank. “I don’t know.”

“Twelve hours is not a lot of time,” Sugawara presses out, “and he’ll lose control even sooner, right? What are we supposed to do? We have books on demons, but none of those focus on how to _help_ one. How are we supposed to do _anything_ —”

“I don’t _know_!” Kenma’s voice cracks and breaks. He glares at them, just for a moment, before he stomps onwards.

Kuroo gives Sugawara a silent, apologetic look, before he sidles back up to Kenma and presses to his side.

“What were you doing earlier?” Akaashi asks, his voice tight. Kei knows that tone from when they’re fighting, when Akaashi really thinks someone has fucked up but doesn’t mean to accuse them outright. “Ku—He’s only looked like this since your spell.”

“Tetsurou’s demonic magic has been increasing,” Kozume says without turning around to face them. “It overwhelmed the rest of him. That’s why he passed out. I boosted his human and cat spirit magic so it could keep up. It's why this manifested in his appearance now, but it seemed a better option than letting him _die_ right then and there.”

Kei winces. Seems like Kozume did pick up on that thinly veiled accusation after all.

“So, wait, the ears were real?” Tanaka asks gruffly.

Kuroo throws a lopsided, sheepish smile over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve kind of been hiding those all this time.”

Tanaka’s brows furrow together, and it’s not an angry look, but definitely an unhappy one. “Sheesh,” he huffs. “We really don’t know shit about you at all, huh?”

“How do you know how to boost cat spirit magic?” Sawamura asks, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, or maybe in thought.

“Used my own as a template,” Kozume replies.

Sawamura gives him a sharp look. “So you’re—”

Kozume blinks his eerie, reflective eyes, with their sharp, slitted pupil, and a thin tail curls from underneath his coat, light brown with black stripes.

“What the—” Hinata squawks, jumping a good way up into the air, shocked. “That’s new!”

“We’re a matched set,” Kuroo hums with a proud grin, slinging an arm over Kozume’s shoulder. His own tail, black and slim, slides out from his tattered clothes and past a limp, feathered wing, to curl affectionately around Kozume’s.

It’s painful to watch, how Kuroo’s expression falls the moments their tails touch. How his gaze skips down, just for a second, eyes catching on the lack of fluffy black fur. How his brows draw down, and then he averts his face entirely.

Kei thinks there is something happening between Kuroo and Kozume, but with Kuroo’s wings hanging down his back, he can’t see.

There’s a long moment of silence, before Sawamura clears his throat. “So, what are we going to do now?”

“We have to figure out what happened and how to reverse it. Or at least stop it for now,” Kozume says quietly.

Kei grits his teeth at the vague answer. Even _he_ could come up with ‘stop it and reverse it’. What does that actually mean when it comes to Kuroo being eaten alive by his own fucking magic?

“We already know a few things,” Hinata says softly. “This—this increase in magic affected every demon going through the In-Between space, so we thought it might be centered there. Kageyama and Yachi-san are still looking—”

“How long have you been there already?” Sugawara asks. Sawamura puts a hand on his shoulder, but it doesn’t ease the tension there.

Hinata looks away, lips pursing unhappily. “Almost a month.”

“And how much have you found?” Sugawara asks, voice scathing and hard.

Hinata stays damningly silent.

“Huh?” Sugawara’s eyes are burning with an eerie sort of fire that seems contradictingly hopeless. “How much do you know about fixing this? How much can you do? We don’t know _shit_ —”

“Suga,” Tanaka says, voice raw and quiet. He’s much more subdued now than Kei’s seen him before. He gestures to Sawamura, and it’s only then that Kei notices how Sawamura’s shoulders are shaking.

Suga wilts instantly. “No, Daichi, hey—” he mutters, sliding an arm around him and shuffling closer.

Like that, Kei can’t see their expressions anymore. He’s still pretty sure that they’re both falling apart.

He knows Bokuto and Akaashi are. They’re exchanging hushed, hitched whispers, faces stuck together, walking so closely that it has to be a hindrance rather than helpful. It almost seems like Akaashi has to drag Bokuto to keep going at all.

Kuroo and Kozume are pressed together so tightly, they almost look like one single person past Kuroo’s limp wings. They seem to be quietly talking to each other, or maybe just looking into each other’s eyes or cuddling.

Kei feels very cold. And alone.

He heard it earlier than those four, but he still can’t wrap his mind around it that Kuroo is _dying_.

And they don’t know how to help him.

Kei wants to sit down where he is and curl up and cry.

But they don’t have time for that, so he doesn’t.

* * *

They make it out of the forest and back to Tanaka’s truck eventually.

Tetsurou’s new wings are too large for him to fit inside, so he has to sit in the open back. Kenma climbs in with him, curling up against his side like they used to do when they were still little kittens. It almost makes Tetsurou cry, but in the end the cold numbness inside of him wins out.

He thought he would die last night and then, against all odds, he survived being found out by the Coven.

He thought Kenma could be dead, and then Kenma turned out to be alive and perfectly fine.

Now Tetsurou is dying after all.

It feels like a fucked-up twist of fate. Like he cheated death not once, but twice, and now it has had enough and is taking its dues anyway.

Tetsurou supposes it’s better than Kenma dying.

He’s had a good run of it. He even got to see Kenma again. And Kei, Akaashi, and Bokuto didn’t have to watch him get exorcised by that prick Oikawa, so that’s a good thing. That would have been ugly.

Though it stands to reason if things will be less ugly this way.

Tetsurou will not sit this out until he loses control and attacks someone. Again.

He barely remembers what happened in the forest. But Bokuto’s torn up arm and the fearful glances Kei keeps shooting his way are more than enough for him to make a guess.

He was always afraid that he’d turn into his kind of monster someday. Maybe it's something that just couldn’t be avoided. This awful magic has been a part of him since he was born, after all.

The drive back to the shop passes in a haze. Tetsurou doesn’t realize they’re there until Kenma takes his hand and tugs him forward. He doesn’t realize how cold it was until they step inside and it’s so much warmer suddenly.

Kenma stays pressed against his side, sending uneasy looks his way, but Tetsurou remains silent.

He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to assure and comfort Kenma, but he’s still trying to understand what is happening in the first place.

Something is killing demons and turning them into bloodthirsty monsters—more bloodthirsty than they already are, anyway. And it’s something that can’t be stopped once it has started in someone. _Infected_ , Kageyama said. This has to be why Kenma wanted him to stay far away from all of this.

But Tetsurou didn’t listen. He fucked up Kenma’s plan. He should have known better.

He always knew his demonic magic would get them into trouble one day. He knew.

It still crushes his heart to have it happen now.

Suga was so hurt over being lied to. Daichi still hasn’t put away his sword. Tanaka’s expression is openly distrustful. Kei and Akaashi are scared of him, with good reason. And Bokuto is—

Daichi has pulled him aside and cut off the sleeve of the already ruined coat, and that’s when Tetsurou gets a look at how much damage he actually did.

It’s bad. There are four deep cuts, gouged into Bokuto’s upper and lower arm both. He must have been trying to protect his head or chest. Tetsurou really almost—

He looks away. Down at his feet. He doesn’t remember taking off his shoes, but they’re gone. The messed-up coat and hoodie are, too. It’s just the scarf from Akaashi covering his chest now.

Tetsurou sits down on the couch and stays there, while Kenma and Suga take off to collect all their books on demons. Tetsurou doesn’t think they’ll find anything on this. From what Kenma said, this—disease or infection or whatever it is, it’s new and unknown. There doesn’t even seem to be anyone else who knows about it, since the Coven and the general population just assume that it’s regular demons attacking them.

Tetsurou can’t fault them for it. He didn’t question the string of attacks, either.

It's just how demons are. They are evil and violent and always trying to hurt those weaker than them.

Tetsurou never wanted to be one. He hates that now he’s becoming more of one.

He wants it to stop.

He curls up and tries to make himself as small as possible. He thinks—

He wishes it was already over.

He wishes he didn’t have to wait for a few more torturous hours. It’s nerve-wracking.

He wonders how this will play out. There’s little chance of saving him, but what will happen first? Will he lose control again? Will he hurt more people? Will his friends have to stop him or will the Coven show up? Tetsurou doesn’t remember that Oikawa guy very fondly, but right now he wishes that the man would just waltz in and end him, so Daichi or Suga or Tanaka or Kenma won’t have to do it. He doesn’t want them to have to live with that.

Someone shoves a sandwich at him. Tetsurou doesn’t know who it is and doesn’t bother to look up and find out.

It’s his favorite, bacon and lettuce and tomato. So it must have been Daichi or Suga or Kenma who made it for him. Tetsurou almost starts crying, but he manages to breathe through it. Somehow.

Suga comes by later and nudges him to take off the feather necklace, so they don’t wear out the spells. The wards of the shop should be enough to hide Tetsurou’s presence.

Tetsurou's new wings have been lying limp all this time. He doesn’t know what to do with them. But now they lose the fluffy coat of Bokuto’s feathers, turning dark and leathery. Now they’re worse.

Tetsurou wants to be rid of them.

At some point, he hears Hinata ask, “Should I go get Kuroo? Having your familiar here will have to help, right?”

That is uncomfortable enough to make him raise his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Akaashi and Bokuto exchanging awkward, pointed glances with each other. Tetsurou exchanges an equally pointed glance with Kenma.

“Uh, yeah, about that—” Kenma coughs, seeming to shrink into his pullover. “Tetsurou _is_ Kuroo.

Hinata squawks something at that, shocked and surprised and then stuttering out more questions at the implications.

Tetsurou is more preoccupied with the wounded, betrayed expression on Suga’s face. Their eyes meet, and Tetsurou looks down. Suga doesn’t approach him to talk, and he’s grateful to be left alone.

Eventually, Kenma urges him to get up.

“We’ll figure something out to fix this,” Kenma tells him quietly. His eyes are red and shining with desperation, and Tetsurou knows Kenma doesn’t really believe what he says. Kenma has been trying to figure this stuff out for two months now and made barely any progress. He’s not going to suddenly crack the whole mystery just because Tetsurou is dying.

But Tetsurou gets that it’s important for Kenma to keep trying, so he comes along without protest, even though all he wants to do is curl back up on the couch and stay there until all this is over.

His wings drag behind him like a heavy cloak as he walks. He sits down on a chair at the shop’s kitchen table, one wing squeezed in awkwardly between him and the backrest because Tetsurou doesn’t know how to maneuver it. It’s kind of painful that way, but Tetsurou feels that the wing deserves it, so he stays as he is.

He looks around the grim, tired faces at the table and realizes that Bokuto and Kei aren’t there. It’s odd, because everyone else is.

He listens to them with one ear, staring down at his knees. His back hurts from the weight of the wings.

He’s tired.

Everyone is talking about when and how he will die, and Tetsurou just wants to forget about it.

Just let him sit down somewhere quiet and comfortable, maybe watch one of his favorite movies, and have Kenma and everyone else close. That’s all he wants.

It’s weird. His chest hurts. He misses them.

Everyone he cares about is right here, but he misses them so much.

It was so peaceful to be pulled into a playful hug by Bokuto, or to stretch out next to Kei and nap there, or to be called ‘baby’ by Akaashi when his world was falling apart, or to curl up somewhere together with Kenma. Tetsurou wants to crawl back into that feeling and stay there. He doesn’t want to have to deal with this.

But he’s sitting where he is, with no choice but to listen.

Kenma makes an estimate of how many hours he has left. It’s 3 am, so it should be maybe 10 more, considering when they entered the In-Between. Akaashi points out that Tetsurou was off before that, when he lost his balance as they first came to the shop, and Kenma readjusts. If Tetsurou got infected with this before entering the Tweens, that only leaves the night before—when Kenma reached out to him, for the first time in almost a _month_.

That means this started earlier and the progression is slower than they thought. They might have about 20 to 24 hours. Tetsurou might make it all the way to tomorrow, just barely.

He'll be a rabid monster by then and trying to murder all his friends, but hey, he’ll be breathing.

The revelation only makes him feel worse than before. It’s just more time for him to stare the inevitable in the face, unable to do anything about it.

“Why did you even contact him when you knew it could put him in danger?” Suga hisses, and the way Kenma’s shoulders draw up and he shrinks back towards Tetsurou is the first clear thing Tetsurou notices in a while.

“It was almost a month. I just wanted to tell Tetsurou to stay away before he got too worried and came looking,” Kenma defends himself.

It’s almost eerie how spot on he was. Tetsurou was days away from coming after him.

“What happened?” he asks quietly, looking at Kenma.

Kenma didn’t tell him anything. He severed their bond. Tetsurou thought he was dead.

Kenma’s breath hitches, and then he turns away from everyone else to slink closer to Tetsurou. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, blinking furiously a few times which Tetsurou knows means he’s trying to hold back tears. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t dare with their audience. “Something—it was off, like someone else was hijacking the link, and I was hoping—if I just cut it quickly enough, they wouldn’t find you.”

Tetsurou grunts in acknowledgment.

Seems like that didn’t work. They found him anyway. He’s turning into a monster now. That Coven guy showed up, too.

The discussion of what to _do_ picks back up after that.

Tetsurou gets that it’s difficult. They can’t just exorcise him or seal his demonic powers. The demonic magic is a part of him. Simply taking it away would kill him. But there’s little else that can be done to contain it.

If there was an easy way to get rid of his demonic heritage, Tetsurou would have done it years ago. He doubts that they’ll come up with anything now.

That doesn’t stop them from arguing about it, though. How to stop his magic from increasing. How to hide it. How to get him back to normal, like he won’t still be a demon then. How to keep him alive.

Kenma is in the middle of pointing out all the ways he could die—either someone sees Tetsurou like this and calls the Coven and they’ll kill him, or he’ll lose control and attack someone and then the Coven will kill him, or his powers grow so much that it tears his body apart from the inside out and that will kill him, or his demonic powers overwhelm his human and cat spirit side and that will kill him—when Tetsurou decides that he’s had enough.

He doesn’t want to become a monster that kills his friends. He doesn’t need to listen to them arguing, as if there was any way to stop it from happening.

It’s happening.

He’s dying.

No one seems to get that things could be _worse_ than that. Tetsurou is far less worried about dying than he is about losing control again. He could _kill_ some of the people here. He already _tried_.

His stomach twists. Pushing back his chair with a jarring, loud noise, he gets up. He has a feeling everyone is looking at him, but he doesn’t have the nerve to face them. He stares down at his feet, ignoring the black wings looming behind him.

“I’m tired. I’ll get some sleep,” he says to no one in particular.

He leaves.

No one stops him.

* * *

Everyone else is having a heated discussion in the kitchen, as far as Koutarou can hear.

Kuroo’s old friends told Koutarou and Tsukki to lie down and get some sleep. They gave Koutarou a pillow and blanket to take the couch with Keiji, and Tsukki a futon. Except Keiji isn’t here right now. Koutarou offered the extra space to Tsukki, of course, but Tsukki turned him down with an unreasonably sour frown. The last night was short and it’s very late, so Koutarou didn’t try to convince him. And he didn’t complain about getting a break when everyone else seems to be working. They should focus on resting up. They’ll need their strength to help Kuroo.

Except.

Except no one seems to know what to do.

Not even Keiji. They’re all just—trying to find a solution that may not exist. They’re helpless to stop this.

It’s an awful feeling.

Koutarou wants to do something. But he doesn’t know what.

He wants to at least hug Kuroo and tell him everything will be okay, but those words feel like a lie. And Kuroo doesn’t look like he wants a hug. He was closed up and silent before Kenma pulled him away.

A part of Koutarou wants to go after them, but it feels like he’s not wanted there. They asked Keiji to join them, because the Akaashis know old and powerful magic and maybe that could help, Koutarou thinks. But he and Tsukki just got a “Rest up!”

It’s true that Koutarou wouldn’t know what to contribute to their discussion. He doesn’t know anything about demons. He didn’t even know Kuroo was one until last night.

That doesn’t mean he has to like this.

Koutarou was too busy with his own issues to realize when Keiji thought he didn’t love him anymore. Koutarou couldn’t do anything for Kuroo when he suddenly broke down crying because he thought Kenma was dead. Koutarou couldn’t do anything for Kuroo when that mean Oikawa guy came to their place and accused Kuroo of being a demon. Koutarou couldn’t do anything when that monster dog attacked Kuroo. Koutarou couldn’t help Kuroo find Kenma. And Koutarou couldn’t protect Tsukki when Kuroo lost it, either.

Everything has been terrible and Koutarou has tried so hard to just push through, but all those horrible things keep piling up and now—

He can’t lose Kuroo.

It still doesn’t feel entirely real that this is something that could happen.

Just yesterday, everything was still fine. And now Kuroo is dying and Koutarou can’t do _anything_.

He can’t help.

He can’t even sleep.

He’s tried, but now he finally gets what Keiji means when he says that his thoughts are too loud to fall asleep. Koutarou turns onto his other side and looks down at the lump on the futon.

“Tsukki, are you awake?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t want to accidentally wake Tsukki up if he, at least, has managed to find some rest. Tsukki is always so good at staying calm even when there are problems.

There’s a grunt. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

Apparently, not even Tsukki can stay collected in this mess. Koutarou wishes he could at least do something for him, since he’s already failed Keiji and Kuroo.

“Why do you think they left us out here, Tsukki?” he wonders out loud. All those questions and thoughts keep swirling through his head and it feels like he’ll go mad if he doesn’t let them out.

Another grunt. The lump of blankets unfurls and Tsukki’s head pops out. It’s hard to read his expression in the darkness, but Koutarou thinks he looks annoyed. “Why do you _think_?” Tsukki hisses, as if any of this was Koutarou’s fault. “They figured out that we’re useless, so they sent us to bed like little kids.”

“We’re not useless,” Koutarou protests. He wishes he could say that with more conviction.

He knows _Tsukki_ is not useless.

“You’re smart as hell,” he points out. “And I’ll help Keiji and Kuroo as much as I can.”

Tsukki scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure _that_ will fix things.”

Koutarou props himself up on his elbow. He doesn’t feel like trying to sleep anymore. “You’re being mean,” he huffs. He’s fought with Tsukki often enough to know that by now.

Even in the near-darkness, he thinks he sees Tsukki rolling his eyes. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“Look,” Koutarou tries. “I don’t know what to do, either. But I’m sure they’ll figure something out. They're all really smart people.”

Tsukki doesn’t immediately answer.

Koutarou begins to shift uneasily, because somehow the silence is worse than when Tsukki is saying mean things.

“You really are an idiot,” Tsukki mutters eventually. “They’re not going to come up with something, by some miracle, just because Kuroo’s life is on the line.”

Tsukki is saying those terrible things because he’s scared. Koutarou is sure of that. He’s scared, too. He can’t even imagine what losing Kuroo would be like.

“Tsukki—” he begins, but Tsukki cuts him of sharply.

“No! Shut up with your inane questions and you’re stupid optimism already! They all don’t know how to fix this! We let Kuroo walk into that place and now it’s killing him and if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep so I can keep my eyes open during my last few hours with him!”

With that, Tsukki’s head disappears back into his blanket cocoon.

Koutarou can only watch, shell-shocked.

Tsukki is mean and scared and defensive, but that doesn’t mean that what he says isn’t true.

Right now, it feels like it’s true.

There’s a lump of ice forming in Koutarou’s chest, tight and cold and hard.

They told Kuroo that they would help him find Kenma. They came with him to that In-Between place and they let him stay there all day even when he was obviously not okay, and Koutarou even dragged him forward when he couldn’t walk anymore—

Koutarou didn’t just fail to protect him.

He made Kuroo worse.

The realization wraps around his throat like a noose, strangling him. Koutarou’s insides freeze and crack, and he feels terrible but also so numb that he can’t even cry.

If Kuroo had just stayed away from them, had found some other people to hide with, maybe he wouldn’t be dying right now. He could be out there somewhere, happy and alive and doing great.

But he’s not.

He’s not.

Koutarou realizes at some point that he’s lied down again, only because there’s a sound and he has to sit up so he can peer out into the dark hallway. There’s a flash of bright hair there, and also a larger, darker shape, looming ominously in the shadows.

“Hinata, wait.” That’s Kuroo’s voice. He’s speaking very quietly. Like he doesn’t want to wake Koutarou and Tsukki, or maybe like he doesn’t want them to hear.

“Kozu—Oh, uh,” Hinata fumbles over his name. Koutarou can’t see what they’re doing, but there is rustling.

“Are you leaving?” Kuroo asks.

“Yes. Kenma is hoping that Kageyama and Yachi-san and I will be able to find something in the Tweens that could help us, and I need to tell them what’s going on. I’m—” There’s a pause. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure of it.”

Koutarou leans further forward, straining to hear. Tsukki’s blanket cocoon is shifting slightly, and Koutarou thinks he’s awake and listening to this, too. Koutarou wonders if what they’re doing counts as eavesdropping. He feels a little bit bad for it, because this talk is just between Kuroo and Hinata and they don’t know he can hear them, but Koutarou can’t bring himself to stop.

There’s a faint hint of optimism in Hinata’s promise, and Koutarou wants so badly to believe that it’s true. That they’ll find a way to help Kuroo.

“Can you—Can you promise me something?” Kuroo asks, and his voice is even quieter now, low and scratchy and shaking just a little. “If this doesn’t work out, then. Can you please look after Kenma for me?”

“I—”

“Please, Hinata.”

Kuroo sounds desperate. The tone of his voice alone would be enough to make Koutarou’s heart ache, but there is so much more to this than that, and it’s so much worse.

This, more than anything else, tells Koutarou—

Kuroo doesn’t think he’ll survive this.

As much faith as he has always had in Kenma, as much as everyone else here knows about magic and as hard as they’re trying—Kuroo knows these people and what they can do. And he doesn’t believe there is a chance to fix things.

So there really isn’t one.

Koutarou stares down at his knees, hidden under the blanket he was given, feeling numb.

He hears Kuroo wheedle the expected promise out of Hinata, hears Hinata’s voice crack, hears Hinata say his goodbyes and slowly choking up because they probably won’t see each other again. Hinata will spend the next few hours in the In-Between, searching for a solution none of them believe exists, and then Kuroo will die.

It was almost surreal to hear it at first, but now it’s finally sinking in.

Kuroo will die. They can’t stop it.

Koutarou lies down and closes his eyes.

He can’t sleep. He can’t cry. He can’t help Kuroo.

He can’t do anything.

He's so fucking useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, I said you'd have answers, I never said you'd know peace... >:D  
> So I came up with the reason for all this back in October and wrote this part in January (I think), back when 'infection' was still a normal word that wasn't loaded with meaning due to current events. I do not have the cognitive capacity to change this into something entirely different, so please just. Ignore that unfortunate coincidence. Thanks.
> 
> Anyway. If you're wondering now 'What the hell is going to happen next chapter, onyx? Why do you make us suffer this way?', please know that I did my best to sneak a teeny tiny hint into this chapter. Maybe you'll find it ;)
> 
> Alternatively, you might be able to guess from the title of the next chapter, which you can see by hovering your mouse over this text!  
> (this is something new I'm trying so if you hate it, please tell me)
> 
> Also, I'm very proud to announce that we're now at a 100k words! This is a great opportunity to laugh at me for thinking that I could write anything short or anything not Slow Burn. I mean. Look at this mess. Look at these idiots. We're gonna be in this for a long time to come, folks. See you soon!


	18. Meeting Boyfriend’s Parents Quickly Crushing Man’s Will To Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent so much time on stupid baby name websites for this chapter, I can't even tell you.  
> It's also the longest chapter yet and it was fucking hell to edit, so I hope you like it because otherwise I will put my head through a wall.  
> Enjoy.

They have a plan.

It’s shaky and not guaranteed to work and usually Keiji would severely protest it, but it’s the only thing they could think of. So Keiji will do everything in his power to _make_ it work.

Even if it means facing his family.

He’s explained it to Koutarou quietly—that they need to stop Kuroo’s demonic powers from growing any further, but sealing or exorcising them would hurt him. There are different kinds of seals, though, and some particularly old ones are supposed so simply put demons in stasis instead of putting them away entirely. There’s no telling what a seal like that would do to Kuroo, but it’s less likely to kill him than anything else, so that is what they’re going to try.

The biggest issue is that seals like that aren’t common knowledge. They’re obscure and ancient and not usually used, and if there are any records left, they’ll only be with very old, very diligent families that kept up their magical traditions throughout the last few centuries.

In other words, the Akaashis are their best bet.

Keiji would usually rather walk in front of a bus than go back to his family and ask them for help, but it’s Kuroo’s only chance. So really, it’s not like Keiji can say no, even though he's felt sick ever since the idea was brought up.

He has been hoping that getting a hug from Koutarou would calm his frantically beating heart, but he doesn’t find out. He realizes, while he tells Koutarou, how bad things are. Koutarou doesn’t speak and his eyes are dull and he doesn’t acknowledge their plan to see Keiji’s family with more than a grunt of understanding. Keiji has seen Koutarou in a slump before, even hopeless and depressed, but he’s not sure if it has ever been this bad. He scolds himself for letting it happen, for not realizing it sooner and for leaving Koutarou alone all night. With Kuroo’s life on the line—Keiji should have known.

Without Koutarou’s vocal support, facing his family becomes even more daunting.

Keiji really wishes he could at least comfort Koutarou, but he can’t. He’s afraid that if he acknowledges in any way how terrible this situation is, he’ll break down either screaming or crying, and he won’t be able to stop until it’s all over. And he can’t do that, because if he doesn’t keep it together, he will never convince his family to help, which is the only chance they have. If Keiji can’t do this, Kuroo will die, and that thought keeps pushing him forward even as it feels like he can’t breathe.

They get a small breakfast, very early in the morning. There isn’t any time for him to sleep. They don’t have many hours left before Kuroo is in danger of losing himself and the sooner they can stop his magic from increasing, the better. Keiji forces himself to eat his cereal, even though his insides keep twisting.

He wonders if his family has heard of him keeping a demon by now or if this will be news to them.

There’s a brief flurry of panic when they try to leave and Kuroo stumbles, barely able to stay on his feet. Keiji’s blood goes rushing in his ears and breathing becomes impossible, and he has to lean against a wall and stay there until it passes. Kuroo isn’t dead when he makes it back. His demonic magic grew more, and the boosting spell Kozume placed on his cat spirit and human magic faded out, so that’s what had him so weak, they figure. All that’s needed to fix that is for Kozume to repeat his earlier spell, more calmly this time.

It’s good that Kuroo isn’t dying and gets back on his feet, but it costs them. Kozume passes out. Kuroo panics. It’s awful to watch. And Kuroo gets even more different, then. His wings grow larger and the red horns longer. His socks are torn by large, black claws.

Keiji’s hands won’t stop shaking as Sawamura and Sugawara and Tanaka rush around to take care of things. Koutarou stands next to him, lifeless as a puppet. He doesn’t wrap an arm around Keiji or ask if he’s okay, or maybe he just doesn’t notice that Keiji is slowly falling apart, and it makes everything so much more terrible.

Keiji curses Koutarou and curses himself and curses everything around them. He wishes he had some of Tsukishima’s detached calm, who’s standing off to the side and watching everything with tired, uninterested eyes.

They can’t wait for Kozume to wake up, so they leave without him. Sawamura and Sugawara don’t come along, either—for some reason it’s just Tanaka, and Keiji wonders about that as they all pile into a car and awkwardly squeeze around Kuroo’s wings, which are now once again hidden underneath false feathers.

Keiji figures it out when Tanaka drops them off and tries to come along, and Kuroo very firmly tells him to stay back. Sawamura, Sugawara, and Tanaka get their jobs from the coven, the temple, and other magical organizations. Walking around helping a demon would ruin them. Kuroo doesn’t want that, he says.

That’s how Keiji ends up standing in front of his family’s temple with just Koutarou and Tsukishima and Kuroo.

If he’s being honest, Keiji doesn’t know why Tsukishima even came with them. Tsukishima doesn’t look like he wants to be here. But Keiji doesn’t have the nerve to question him.

He wishes he had Koutarou at his side instead. It doesn’t feel like he has. Koutarou is trailing along with them like a lost child, silent and slumped. All Keiji wants to do is crawl into his arms and go back home. He’s terrified of walking up these stairs and seeing the people who raised him. People who cast him out years ago.

A part of him his unfairly angry at Koutarou for leaving him alone with this, for not being able to snap out of it to stand by Keiji’s side like a proper boyfriend.

But Keiji knows. He knows Koutarou isn’t doing this on purpose. It’s just too much. The only reason Keiji is doing any better is because he _has_ to. He simply can’t allow himself to break down now. Kuroo’s life depends on it.

He wonders how much further his desperation can take him before it’s not enough to hold him together anymore. His nerves are already frayed and he feels faint, like he’s only one wrong thought away from giving up and crumbling like Koutarou and Tsukishima seem to have done already.

Strangely, Kuroo is the only one of them who doesn’t seem bothered by all of this. He has the same dark circles beneath his golden eyes as they all do, but he looks around with nothing more than wary curiosity for the imposing temple ahead of them.

That worries Keiji, too. But he has other, bigger worries, so he can’t spare it too much thought. The most important matter right now is to convince his family to help Kuroo. Keiji will have to make that happen—somehow.

Unfortunately, Kuroo currently doesn’t make the most trustworthy picture. Sugawara did the best he could to hide Kuroo’s demonic appearance, but there are subtle things _off_ about him.

Kuroo’s wings, falsely feathered, drag on the ground behind him like a bizarre cape. Kuroo’s tail is hidden in his pants, which sometimes shift in a way that normal pants do not. Kuroo’s horns and claws aren’t visible, but they’re still _there_ and whenever Keiji stares too hard at where they should be, he gets dizzy. The same goes for Kuroo’s demonic feet—Sugawara added a spell to make them look like shoes, but the way Kuroo is walking looks strange now.

Sugawara also cast a few cloaking spells on Kuroo himself, to hide his demonic presence even when he takes off the charmed necklace with the transformation spells. That will be useful, in case they’ll have to show someone Kuroo’s true form and gauge how demonic he is, without immediately bringing down the Coven on them.

It’s good spell work, really. Maybe Keiji is worrying too much. But there is also the matter of how they couldn’t put a new shirt over Kuroo’s wings, so Kuroo is only wearing Keiji’s scarf. It leaves much of his upper body visible, and—

To say the least, Keiji never thought he’d walk back to his family together with a part demon who’s openly showing off nipple piercings and a few dinosaur band-aids on his chest.

It could be worse, Keiji tries to tell himself. There could be hickeys, too.

But the thought doesn’t fill him with a lot of hope, and he feels his chest closing up a little bit more with every step they take closer to the temple. His heart is beating loudly in his ears and only gets louder.

It’s just past 6 in the morning, so only very few people are milling around, giving Kuroo odd looks. It’s understandable. There aren’t many winged people in the city and usually they would know how to control their wings. Kuroo can’t seem to. It makes sense. He’s never had wings before. Keiji just hopes that no one will get too suspicious and stop them before they even make it to his family.

He wonders if it will get busier later. Sundays always started out slow, but by noon the place used to be so full of people that Keiji often helped out.

It all still looks exactly as he remembers it. The long, wide stairs leading up to the building. The pillars and old trees lining their way. The main building for visitors up ahead, with red paint and arched roofs, black tiles and elegant wooden carvings. Keiji sees the rock that he climbed on as a child and then slipped off, breaking his arm. His mother scolded him so much for being irresponsible like that, but she was hugging him the entire time.

It feels like walking back into a past life. They step into the building set up for visitors. The shop off to the side is the same as it always was, though some of the items are new.

Kuroo is looking around curiously, the only one of them who does.

Koutarou was here a few times, before they cut ties with the Akaashis. Maybe he remembers how everything looks. Maybe he just doesn’t care. The second option seems far more likely to Keiji.

And Tsukishima came here by Keiji’s request just yesterday. It feels ironic. It was such a short time ago, but back then Keiji didn’t think he would ever set foot into this place again. Now here they are.

He looks around for someone he knows and finds a familiar face much sooner than he wants to.

Hikaru spots him first. The Labrador barks, bounding over to Keiji with a wagging tail and licking at his fingers. Keiji hastily pulls his hands away before anyone can think that he’s petting the familiar without permission.

With Hikaru in front of him, it only takes a moment for his partner to follow.

“Keiji,” Hideo breathes, soft and disbelieving.

He’s staring at Keiji like he’s seeing a ghost. He has grown older since Keiji last saw him. His hair is longer now, pulled into a braid at the back. His eyes are drawn tighter, or maybe that’s just the pain in his expression. He’s wearing temple robes, which get ruffled when Hikaru jumps over to him, pressing against his side with an excited wag of his tail and little huffs.

Unbidden, Keiji thinks that if he hadn’t left, this could be him right now. Here. Working in the temple, his familiar at his side, together with his cousin.

He and Hideo used to be so close. Keiji doesn’t have any siblings and Hideo is just two years older than him. They spent so much time together growing up.

Now they haven’t spoken in years. Keiji doesn’t even know what Hideo’s opinion on the whole matter with Koutarou is.

“Hideo,” Keiji says and his throat closes up, making it painful.

He doesn’t get any further than that before the next familiar face hurries into the room, stealing all the air he had left from his lungs.

Akaashi Takako stands proud and with grace. Keiji has never seen anything else from her. She is pale now, but her eyes are narrowed and determined nevertheless. Her lips are pulled into a thin, stern line, her expression severe and accusing. Ren sits on her shoulder, stiff as if she was a stuffed replica instead of a live ermine. Keiji used to play with Ren for hours as a kid, but now there is not a trace of fondness to be found. Keiji might as well be a stranger, to the familiar and his mother both.

None of them say anything for a long time.

It’s Keiji who relents eventually. “Okaa-sama,” he presses out, feeling faint, as if all of this is nothing but a bad dream. His fingers curl uneasily, and he wishes desperately that he could squeeze Koutarou’s hand. Even knowing that Koutarou, Tsukishima and Kuroo are right there with him, he feels terribly alone and small in front of his mother and her displeased frown.

He wishes anyone else was here with Hideo and him. Anyone. Even his father—

He would surely be harsher in his judgements of Keiji and Kuroo. He was always the stricter one, while Keiji’s mother was more understanding. Keiji’s chances to convince his father would likely be lower, and yet Keiji wishes—

Seeing his father here would hurt less. Less than facing his mother’s eyes which were always soft and kind on him, but are now hard and cold.This is only the second time she’s looking at him like this. Now, and when came to Koutarou—

Before he told his parents his parents, Keiji had hoped that maybe she would—

But he was wrong. He knew what to expect of his father, who was raised to be a proper Akaashi all his life and practically breathed tradition. But Keiji underestimated his mother. Koutarou said once, low and joking in one of his attempts to cheer Keiji up, that Keiji shouldn’t count on her so much—the woman who saw all of the Akaashis’ rules and traditions and decided that yes, she wanted to be a part of ‘that repressed shitshow’.

Keiji was able to laugh about the expression back then.

Now the memory is stuck in his heart like a thorn, barbed and painful.

His mother told him once, when he crawled into bed with her at night, crying because he couldn’t make any friends at school, that fitting in was always hard in the beginning. That the Akaashis had been skeptical of her at first. That things had changed when she’d worked hard to prove herself.

Maybe that is why, in the end, his mother could be even stricter about the Akaashis’ rules than his father. Maybe Keiji just never realized, until she tore him down for loving Koutarou, too blinded by how gentle she was with him and how much he adored her.

Now she’s staring at him with so much disappointment and disdain in her eyes that Keiji wants to disappear from the Earth altogether.

“There is talk of you consorting with demons now,” his mother says. Her narrowed eyes move over each of them in turn, like she wants to see which of them it is. Her expression grows darker as she musters Koutarou. “Tell me you’re not here because you did and are in trouble now, Keiji.”

Keiji draws in a shuddering breath and forces himself not to shrink back. Even though he wants to. He wants to turn and run home and curl up on his bed and cry. Or at least step back far enough that he can feel Koutarou at his back. Where his boyfriend should be.

But he’s not.

Keiji is cold and alone.

He can’t even bring himself to look away. Can’t avoid his mother’s stern gaze. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth as he tries to form an answer.

He has to be smart about this. If he fails at convincing her, Kuroo will die. Keiji only has this one chance to fix things, so he has to be perfect.

What is the best way to go about this? It would have been easiest to avoid the topic of demons altogether, but since his mother has already heard the rumors, there is no way around that now.

Option A. Keiji can tell her the truth. That Kuroo is his friend and part demon and now, dying. A seal to put his demonic magic in stasis is the only thing they could think of to save him. It’s unlikely that his mother and the rest of his family will agree to saving a demon’s life, though. Especially if Keiji admits how unforthcoming Kuroo has been with the truth so far and that until two nights ago, not even Keiji knew what he was. In this scenario, most likely, his mother will judge him a terrible, emotional fool and turn down his request. After all, only an idiot would want to save a demon because he _likes_ it. No, if his mother finds out that Keiji is in this because of an emotional attachment, Kuroo will definitely die.

Option B. Keiji lies and claims that he has some sort of idea what he’s doing and isn’t here out of sheer and utter desperation. He tells his mother that he’s doing this with a plan. A good plan. That he has a clear, rational goal, like holding control over a powerful demon and uncovering a city-wide plot targeting them, which might just improve the Akaashis’ good name even further. He’s reasonably sure that Kuroo would play along with that, given that his life is on the line, and it’s not even completely off from the truth. Uncovering this plot would be a good chance for his family to solidify their position as the most prominent temple in the city. The only downside is that his mother might not necessarily agree with his plan and deem it safer to let Kuroo die.

Option C. Keiji ignores that the truth is a thing and lies about _everything_. His mother might not support his morals or ideas or plans, but she still cares about Keiji’s wellbeing in a general sense. Keiji hopes so, at least. If Keiji tells her that Kuroo is evil and tricked him into sealing their fates together, if Keiji can make his mother believe that if Kuroo dies, Keiji dies with him—he’s reasonably sure that his mother will help in that case. But convincing her of something like that won’t be easy and it will make Kuroo look like a monster and she will be incredibly disappointed with Keiji. And most importantly, while Keiji’s mother is likely to help save Kuroo’s life that way, she wouldn’t just let Kuroo walk away afterwards. She would definitely call the Coven and set to breaking apart the life-bond that doesn’t actually exist and once that comes to light, there will be nothing protecting Kuroo anymore.

None of their options are particularly good. Keiji is wracking his brain about what else he could do. He doesn’t like their odds. It all ends with Kuroo dying or stuck in some other kind of trouble. Saving Kuroo’s life here won’t matter much when next thing, the Coven will swoop in and exorcise him.

Maybe Keiji can improve their chances some other way. Gain his mother’s sympathy.

Could he tell her about what a kind person Kuroo is and how much Keiji cares about him? That’s unlikely to help. Her mother has the same general distrust of demons that every Akaashi has. There have been too many bloody fights and too many losses for any of them to trust a demon. She will just think that Keiji got fooled and then not trust anything he says.

Can he gain her favor some other way? Maybe he could pretend that he’ll leave Koutarou if she helps him. Usually Koutarou would protest that plan and make it fail by default, but as broken as he is right now—Keiji would hate to do this to him, but if it increases their chances of saving Kuroo just a _little_ —then maybe—

What about Tsukishima and Kuroo himself? They have been quiet so far. They’re wisely not making things worse by offending his mother. That is good. Can Keiji get even more from them? Is there something they could do or say to prove to his mother that helping Kuroo is not a terrible mistake? Tsukishima has been decent about acting like he can keep Kuroo in line. Helping a demon under control is more reasonable than helping an uncontrolled one. But if they mess up and his mother realizes that Kuroo’s and Tsukishima’s relationship rests largely on them sleeping together, it might just backfire and make everything worse. Is that a risk Keiji should take?

If he decides wrong, there won’t be a second chance. If he can’t convince his mother, there is little probability of convincing anyone else in his family, and at that point he can’t go for a different story without losing all credibility.

Keiji’s head feels like it will split apart, pounding just as much as his heart does in his chest.

Before he has to answer, Hideo quietly clears his throat. “Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere more private?”

His mother’s steely eyes dart over to his cousin and Keiji draws in a shaky breath the moment he’s free of them.

“You’re right,” she says, her voice cold. “Hideo, get the others.”

“But—” Hideo protests and falters a moment later. His gaze darts towards Keiji, just for a second, with something almost like—

Keiji can’t tell. Regret? Worry? Wariness?

Then Hideo bows his head. “Yes, oba-san.” With that, he hurries off, Hikaru close on his heels.

Keiji’s mother turns and leads them to one of the small rooms just a few hallways down. She closes the door behind them, and the moment the chatter from outside is cut off, she whirls on Keiji. “What are you _thinking_ , son? Have you not made things hard enough for us yet?”

Keiji can’t bring himself to face her. He looks down at his own twisting fingers, still wishing that Koutarou was here.

Koutarou is standing just a few steps away. Impossibly far.

“I’m sorry, okaa-sama,” he presses out, his voice thin and rawer than he would like. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you or anyone else here. I told you that back then and it’s still true now. But—I need your help.”

Cautiously, he raises his head. His heart stutters at the cold, disdainful look his mother pins him with. “So it’s true then?” she hisses. “A demon?”

Keiji’s eyes burn and he blinks. He nods, once, stiffly. “It’s not what you think,” he gasps, even as his throat closes up. But he needs to explain, before she tears into him and he forgets everything he wanted to say. All of their options are bad, but at least plan B has a small chance of success, if he can only do it right. “There is something going on in this city—targeting demons and having them kill people on purpose. And we could uncover it. This could save lives.”

His mother purses her lips, unhappy and stern. “You expect me to believe that? Some city-wide conspiracy that none of us have heard of so far?” She scoffs. “Just what have you gotten yourself into?”

“You have heard of the signs,” Keiji says, feeling just a little bit more confident because she hasn’t shut him down completely, yet. And he knows that she must have heard of the demon attacks in recent weeks. “Everyone has. It’s just that they are interpreting them wrong. It’s not a plot by the demons. It’s someone else, setting everything up, and it has only gone unnoticed for so long because everyone is so _willing_ to believe that it’s the demons themselves doing this.”

“With reason. Demons don’t have to be manipulated to attack people,” his mother says coldly. Beneath her disdain, something more somber makes its way into her expression.

Keiji knows. He understands. He knows the names of everyone they’ve lost to demons, knows that Hideo is still bearing scars, but this is different. “They have to be, for it to be like this,” he presses out, trying to sound as certain as he can. “I know because I’ve spoken to a demon whose powers are growing and he doesn’t want to attack anyone. But to stop it, we need your help. Please.”

His mother’s chin raises as her eyes narrow. She musters them all once again, and this time, her eyes stop on Kuroo and his limp wings. His mother has always been smart. Keiji has no doubt that she’s putting it together right now. “Show me,” she demands.

Kuroo’s eyes find Keiji’s, unsure. A little worried.

Keiji is not feeling any better, but he nods. “Take it off,” he murmurs.

Kuroo grabs the makeshift necklace and pull it over his head. Feathers fade out to reveal the black, bat-like wings. Kuroo’s horns seem to sprout from his head in a mere second. Kuroo shifts for a moment, then straightens up to meet Keiji’s mother’s gaze.

“This is the demon you protected with our name?” his mother asks.

Keiji nods again. His stomach is twisting and pulling. He wants to go to Kuroo, stand by his side, but he doesn’t dare. What lies between him and Kuroo is another secret that his mother can’t know about, or she’ll surely think that Keiji is doing this out of misguided feelings. And then she won’t believe a word he says about having rational motives for coming here.

“I’m Kuroo,” Kuroo introduces himself, none of his usual grin to be found in his steely expression. “I’m one fourth demon. I’ve lived in this city for years without hurting anyone and I’d like to keep it that way. Akaashi-san said that you could help me.”

The _‘-san’_ is new. Like their relationship isn’t as casual as it is. That’s smart. Keiji feels a wave of gratefulness and hope welling up inside of him. Maybe they can make this work. He wants to smile at Kuroo and doesn’t, because he knows his mother would notice.

But the small spark of warmth he feels is quickly snuffed out when, before he knows it, his mother is hissing out low words and twisting her fingers, shooting out a cleansing spell over the whole room.

Kuroo yelps and flinches back. His wings rise up, like he’s trying to hide behind them, but they stop mid-air before they can work as any sort of shield. Koutarou and Tsukishima blink, unaffected, but there is worry in both their faces. Tsukishima steps closer to Kuroo, one hand out, and Keiji only barely stops himself from doing the same.

“Are you thinking clearer now?” his mother’s question cuts into him, accusing and expectant.

Keiji takes a step closer to her, anger simmering beneath his skin. “He didn’t _spell_ me, okaa-sama! I believe everything I just told you!”

She scoffs. “And here I thought you were just foolish enough to get enchanted by a demon. Not to actually _fall_ for the words of one.”

“I am not that stupid,” Keiji bites out, feeling himself getting too harsh but unable to help his temper. “I have multiple other sources! I saw much of it myself. I told you the truth, and it’s up to you to believe it, but—” His voice fails him. Unbidden, he glances over to Koutarou who is looking at him with sad eyes, and Tsukishima hovering cautiously next to a wincing Kuroo. Keiji’s chest swells and aches. “Okaa-sama. I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t serious about this. I need your help. At least hear me out. _Please_.”

Keiji desperately hopes that his mother will allow that much, because he doesn’t have anything else left. There is no chance of convincing her if she won’t even _listen_ to him. He knew their chances weren’t great, but he thought he would at least get _that_ far. If she won't give him a chance to explain himself, Keiji doesn’t know what else to try.

His mother’s eyes fall back to him, and he feels like he can’t breathe, seeing the sharpness of her expression. “You expect me to accept this?” she asks, her voice like an icy knife that twists between his ribs. Keiji’s breath stutters in his lungs. “You want our heritage, our magic and traditions to be used to enable this _demon_ —”

“It’s my heritage, too,” Keiji bites out, shocked at his own defiance. He shouldn’t be like this. He should be trying harder to be amiable, but it’s all just _so much_ —

His mother’s eyes narrow into slits. Her voice rises, ever so slightly, as she hisses, “You lost all claim to this the moment you walked out of here with that—”

Keiji finally finds his self-control again. He bites his lip to keep from interrupting her. His throat and eyes are burning with the need to defend Koutarou, defend himself and his choices, but—

He needs her help. He can’t save Kuroo without her. That is more important than his pride and feelings. He reminds himself of that, firmly, and holds his tongue.

“— _man_ ,” his mother spits, like it’s the worst word she can think of. Her gaze feels like a weight on him. Sharp like a knife. Unforgiving like an icy storm. Keiji is sure that she noticed his growing protest, that she saw him swallow it down. Her lips twitch, just the slightest bit, in satisfaction.

He looks back down on the ground. He doesn’t know what to say anymore, how to convince her, but he _has to_ —

“Wow, now I see why you were against coming here,” Tsukishima drawls, glib and smooth and so disrespectful that it makes Keiji’s heart stutter. He jerks around and then back, at the cold look in Tsukishima’s eyes. The haughtiness of it. Like Keiji’s mother is the one who should impress _him_ and is falling short, instead of the other way around.

“What?” his mother asks, sharply, and Keiji can barely believe it. Her façade is barely cracking, hardly at all, but she is just the slightest bit thrown off and Keiji has never seen that before.

“I’ve heard that the Akaashis were wise and rational,” Tsukishima goes on unperturbed, his brows drawing up. He clicks his tongue. “But to think that you’d ignore a city-wide murder spree over a personal grudge and your own prejudice. Oh my.”

Keiji realizes what Kei is doing and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. Never in his life would Keiji dare to be so glib and snide with his mother, would dare to defy and antagonize her in this way—but Tsukishima is doing it, somehow.

And somehow, impossibly, it’s working. There is just a bit of that hard determination fading from her expression. Visibly, her posture doesn’t shift, but Keiji catches the sway of Ren’s tail as the ermine readjusts on her shoulder, which means she must have moved or tensed or relaxed just a little. Just for a short moment. Tsukishima’s words really provoked her into wavering.

Keiji feels like he can’t breathe. He hardly dares to at all, because this might mean that she is no longer fully convinced that she’s right and he’s wrong. She might actually, honestly start _considering_ them right now. Keiji can’t do anything to ruin that. He watches, silent and unmoving even as his heart is attempting to beat out of his chest. His mother inclines her head ever so slightly. Her sharp gaze drifts off of them, for once, as she is thinking. Evaluating. Reassessing.

It feels like time is standing still and like years are passing simultaneously.

Eventually, his mother nods her head towards Kuroo ever so slightly, her eyes finding Keiji. “What is the matter with him?”

She’s considering it.

She is _really_ considering it. Gathering information to make a choice later on. They have a _chance_.

Keiji’s legs feel weak, like he might pass out any moment. “His demonic magic is increasing uncontrollably,” he chokes out, his voice shaking slightly with his nerves. “It will cause him to lose control of himself eventually. We’re hoping to avoid that by putting a stasis seal on his demonic magic, leaving the rest unaffected. It would give us time to figure out what is happening and how to stop it on a larger scale.”

“Hm,” is all his mother says in reply, looking Kuroo over. Kuroo straightens up. His wings give a weak twitch upwards, but then sink back down. His pants are moving oddly, and Keiji thinks it’s his tail shifting around. Kuroo has to be nervous. Keiji always was when his mother looked him over like that, and it was never his life on the line when that happened.

“Why not seal him altogether? It would be safer and easier,” his mother says then. It means she’s thinking about this, trying to find an option, and Keiji hardly dares to believe his luck. A part of him doubted it, was terrified that they wouldn’t make it this far.

He bites down every honest reply that comes to his mind and answers, “He’s part human, too. It’s unlikely to work.”

“Hm,” his mother hums again. One of her hands taps at her chin, finally abandoning her rigid, perfect posture. Ren shifts on her shoulder once more, nose sniffing the air curiously. It’s an unspoken acquiescence that has Keiji almost slumping with relief. “Is he anything else?”

“Cat spirit. Half,” Keiji says, almost too loudly now that he can breathe again.

“Curious mix,” his mother hums, and it rankles Keiji a bit—the way she says it like Kuroo is a weird dog that Keiji picked up from the street. But he holds his tongue. They’re not sure of her help yet.

There’s a pause, and then she looks at Keiji again.

“Why are you so intent on helping this demon, Keiji?” she asks.

It’s the first time she’s said his name since they arrived. Keiji’s heart burns, just like his eyes and the back of his throat. He swallows it all down.

He can’t say ‘He’s my friend’ or ‘I like him’ or ‘Kissing him is nice’ or ‘When we talk, I feel better, the same way I feel better when Koutarou is around’.

“There are advantages to helping him,” he says quietly. He makes himself meet her eyes, even though he doesn’t want to. He’s not speaking anything untrue, but he’s leaving out so much that it feels like he’s lying. “With his assistance, we could find out what is causing this and put an end to the demon killing spree. He’s willing to offer his full cooperation.” Keiji swallows and bites the inside of his lip. “I believe he’s useful enough that it’s worth keeping him alive.”

It sounds so cold and uncaring towards Kuroo. Keiji doesn’t even want to know what Kuroo has to be thinking of him right now.

It doesn’t matter for the moment. What matters is what his mother thinks—if Keiji can convince her. If she will agree with his reasoning.

Keiji doesn’t know if she will. He’s not sure if he would agree with himself, if he didn’t know Kuroo and care for him the way he does.

Keeping a demon alive, who by his own admission will become a danger to others soon, is a huge risk. To do that just on the assumption that there is something more nefarious going on beneath that—and helping Kuroo, then, means defying that nebulous force, and possibly putting a target on their backs. Keiji hasn’t had time to consider that before, and he knows even in this moment that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll help Kuroo anyway, but—

His mother might see things differently. If she still believes that Kuroo is dangerous and that he manipulated Keiji into helping him somehow, just to save his own skin—

His mother sighs. It somehow comes out both icy and weary at once. “What did you get yourself into, Keiji?” she asks, just like she did at the beginning of their talk, but her voice is so very different now. Less closed off and more like she sounded when Keiji broke his arm. Keiji isn’t entirely sure whether she’s asking an actual question or admonishing him for doing something foolish.

“I just want to help solve this,” he answers, managing to keep his voice nearly steady. “Maybe—make up for some of the trouble I’ve caused you. And you always raised me to be the kind of person who cares about these things.” He breathes, once. Steels himself. “So, please—do you know if w—if there are any spells here that could help him?”

His mother turns towards him and he feels trapped beneath her gaze. “I’m sure of it, yes.”

Relief floods Keiji, almost violently, tension draining from his shoulders—

“But I won’t indulge using them,” she says sharply. Her eyes are hard, without any hint of doubt in them. Without any room for compromise.

Keji stops breathing altogether. _He thought_ —

“Okaa-sama,” he rasps out, hating how his voice cracks. “This is larger than just me or Kuroo-san. Even if you don’t get involved now, it will eventually become an issue you have to deal with. Please. This is an _opportunity_ to study what is going on with a demon who’s willing to cooperate.” The words feel wrong and slimy on his tongue, as he says them. His stomach turns over.

His mother stares back at him.

Is she even still thinking about it? Keiji doesn’t know anymore. He feels like he’s going to cry at any moment.

There’s a small sound behind him then.

“Kuroo?” Tsukishima whispers, quiet but frantic. Worried.

Keiji realizes, with shock that washes over him like a wave of icy water, that he just _assumed_ Kuroo would be fine after his mother’s cleansing spell. But he could be hurt, or it could have interacted with what is affecting his powers somehow, made it _worse_ —

Keiji whirls around, he has to check, he—

He realizes, a split second later, by his mother’s sharp intake of breath—

He just made a terrible mistake.

He has given himself away.

Maybe it was the small, half-step he took towards Kuroo instead of backing away as any sane person should do when something is wrong with a demon. Or maybe Keiji’s expression has betrayed his worry despite his best attempts to put on a calm mask. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Keiji doesn’t know. All he knows is that now his mother knows something is up.

“Keiji,” she hisses out. It’s sharp and shocked and so terribly disappointed all at once. “Just how much do you care for this demon?”

Keiji still takes a moment to look Kuroo over, _needs_ to make sure that he’s fine—there is pain in Kuroo’s expression. His body tense. Something is wrong. But it’s not that he’s dying or losing control, so it’s not the highest priority right now—before he turns back to his mother. That alone has to tell her a lot already.

“He’s important to me,” Keiji admits quietly. The words burn in his mouth. He knows, even as he speaks them, that they will be Kuroo’s death sentence.

His mother’s eyes narrow into furious slits. “And you dare bring him here?” she presses out, clearly trying to hold back on her anger but it’s painfully apparent now. “You—you present me with this ridiculous story, you _lie to my face_ , for a _demon_? And then you have the nerve to tell me that it’s because of some—some _emotional attachment_ —did we teach you _nothing_? Are you so eager to discard everything we stand for? I thought your dalliance with another man was—was—but _this_! I can’t believe you would stoop so low!”

Keiji’s eyes burn. Desperately, he chokes out, “Okaa-sama, I—what I told you is still _true_ , I—”

“Enough!” she snaps. “You have brought us enough pain. I can only hope that you’re doing this to get back at us and not because you’re actually _trusting a demon_. Even if what you talked about is true, I doubt there’s _any need_ to keep this thing alive. Certainly not to let him walk around freely. You—you must have completely lost your mind, Keiji. But this ends now. I won’t let you take this any further. To think that you’d make us the ally of _demons_ —are you trying to break your father’s heart?”

Keiji can't breathe.

His mother glares at him. “Give him up _now_ , Keiji. Before someone gets hurt.”

Keiji realizes that he’s shaking.

He knew it. He messed up and now his mother doesn’t trust his words anymore because she thinks he’s compromised by his feelings. And he _is_ , it’s true, but—

This was their only chance to help Kuroo and now it’s _gone_ , and it’s all _his fault_ , and he can’t think of anything to do now, and he can’t breathe anymore—

Warm arms wrap around him from behind, cutting into his racing thoughts.

The jacket is unfamiliar. Pink with a faux fur lining that’s tickling the back of his neck. But Keiji knows—

Koutarou borrowed it this morning because his own was torn. And Keiji is not alone here, he can breathe again and so he does, a shaky stream of air that’s threatening tears. But he can’t cry now. He still needs to—

“I’ll ask otoo-sama and the others, then,” he says, toneless and numb.

“ _Keiji_ ,” his mother hisses, sharper now. Sterner.

A storm is raging inside of him, cold and heat warring with each other, like he’s running a fever. Like he’s going to pass out. “I don’t have to do what you say anymore,” he hears himself answer as he steps past her, one hand on Koutarou’s arm to keep him close.

His mother stares at him in bewilderment, the likes of which Keiji has never seen on her face before. He meets her eyes dead-on as he pushes open the door, then nods his head to signal Tsukishima and Kuroo to move.

“Keiji, stop this foolishness,” his mother implores him. She is the one trying frantically to convince _him_ now, and a bitter part of Keiji feels vindictive satisfaction about it, even though he knows she’s doing this because she’s worried for him. Because she still cares for him—just not enough to help.

Keiji walks out of the room with certain steps, clutching Koutarou’s wrist with maybe too much force. He hopes that the pink jacket will make his grip more bearable, voluminous as it is. Tsukishima is giving him a worried look and Keiji can’t answer with anything useful.

He was desperately hoping to convince his mother. He doesn’t actually think that his chances will be better talking to his father. His father was raised in this temple, has lost family and friends to demons all his life, and even his _familiar_ —

Keiji lost people, too, but he knew Kuroo as a person first. Maybe that made all the difference.

“Keiji, wait!” his mother calls after him. Keiji doesn’t slow his steps.

He doesn’t make it far, because right after turning the corner he almost runs into his cousin. Keiji stops abruptly.

It’s not just Hideo. Keiji’s father is there as well, and his aunt—the one who wasn’t killed by demons or vampires—and so many other familiar faces that it’s making Keiji’s head spin.

“Otoo-sama,” Keiji presses out, before his voice fails him and his mother catches up to them.

His father’s eyes dart frantically between Keiji and where he’s clutching Koutarou’s arm and Kuroo’s black wings. Kuroo needs to put his charm back on before they can leave this place, Keiji thinks, before the thought gets caught up in the general static that has taken over his brain.

His father’s eyes are tired. And wary. There are deep lines on his face that Keiji can’t remember being there. His black hair is graying. “Keiji—” he begins, and the sound of it tears Keiji’s heart open just as easily as his mother speaking his name did.

It’s enough for Keiji to catch himself. “Will you help me?” he asks, trying to ignore how brash and disrespectful he’s being. “Kuroo is—”

“A demon,” his mother cuts in, darting to his father’s side. “One who has made you believe in nebulous schemes that may not exist, and one who by his own admission is going to kill people soon.”

“If you help us, he won’t,” Keiji insists, willing himself not to tear up.

They need his family’s help. Keiji is the only one who can make that happen. And here he is, teetering right on the edge of failure. Tilting and falling. He has no doubt that his father will listen to his mother rather than him, but Keiji _has to_ make him believe—

“Keiji, you know that we don’t side with demons,” his father mutters, quiet like he’s trying to make Keiji understand and with a faint edge of disbelief that Keiji would even _suggest_ this. “Think of what they've done to this family—”

“I don’t _care_ about that!” Keiji bites out, feeling himself beginning to crack. His hand, the one that is not still clutching Koutarou’s arm, has curled into a shaking fist. Keiji is both terrified and eerily calm, swallowed by regret and pride for snapping like that.

Then the regret wins out.

What has he done? He needs to convince them. He can’t fight with them. He—

“Keiji, stop being so foolish,” his mother tells him.

His father nods. He takes a step forward. “Come on, son. I’m sure we can work this out.”

Keiji’s eyes burn. His lungs burn. His whole body burns.

They said almost the same thing to him when he told them that he loved Koutarou. When he told them that he wouldn’t change.

“Will you help me?” he asks, once more. He hates how his voice shakes. His parents shift, like they’re already thinking about how to avoid his question, and Keiji hisses, “Answer me! If you won’t help, then I’ll leave now. And don’t expect me to ever come back again.”

A tremor shakes his mother’s shoulders before she stops it. Ren nearly slides off from it. His father draws a step back, pale. There are tears shining in his parents’ eyes, just as Keiji can feel them in his own.

He waits. He doesn’t step back. He doesn’t look away.

His mother’s gaze falls down to the ground and she steps closer to his father. His father grits his teeth.

“You can’t _keep_ that demon, Keiji,” his mother says quietly.

Again she says it like Kuroo is some sort of rabid dog. Keiji should have noticed it earlier. How his mother, despite everything he said, despite all their assurances, despite Kuroo being more spirit than demon, has looked down on him like this the entire time. Kuroo is nothing but a demon to her. Unreliable and dangerous.

She was never going to help them. Why did she listen at all?

Was she—She was trying to make them wait, Keiji realizes with sudden clarity. She wanted to keep them here until the rest of his family arrived so that they could contain Kuroo by force. Maybe that was her plan from the start. Maybe she was playing him the entire time and only ever indulged him so that he wouldn’t catch on.

He was so stupid. He thought calling the others here would be a precaution and to let them have a word, not—not to be sure that they can fight Kuroo and win.

Keiji didn’t realize.

And now he has doomed Kuroo. He didn’t just fail to convince his family, he brought on even more trouble. If by some miracle, this strange increase of his magic won’t kill Kuroo in the next few hours, Keiji’s family will definitely do it.

“I’m leaving,” Keiji croaks out.

It’s thin. It’s weak. It’s admitting defeat.

He can’t convince them.

Kuroo had one chance to survive and Keiji messed it up.

“Do you think we’ll just let you walk out of here with a demon?” his father asks, disbelieving and disappointed and almost aggressive. It’s just how he sounded when Keiji talked to them last time.

_‘Are you really going to throw your whole life away for that man?’_

Keiji’s throat closes up. He can’t find his voice. He feels like he can’t breathe even move, trapped by his parents’ accusing eyes.

“Do _you_ think we would have come here if you could stop us?” Tsukishima asks back, sharp and haughty and so _confident_ that for a moment, Keiji almost believes him himself.

Shocked, Keiji looks at Tsukishima. His heart beats harshly in his chest, taking in the fire in Tsukishima’s eyes, the way he’s standing up straight despite who they’re facing. How he’s edged himself almost in front of Keiji, as if he wants to shield Keiji and Koutarou and Kuroo all at once. Tsukishima looks as if he could make the whole world move just because he demands it.

Keiji catches himself and steps forward to leave, drawing Koutarou with him. He pushes past his shocked family, glancing over his shoulder only to check that Tsukishima and Kuroo are following. The traitorously black wings are still visible, and they have to—

“Keiji!” both his mother and father call, only slightly apart. They are hurrying after him, temple robes flying.

“Leave me alone!” Keiji hisses, glaring at them and telling himself very firmly not to cry. He tries to forget that this will most likely be the last time he sees them—his _parents_.

He only realizes that he stopped walking when Tsukishima and Kuroo slow down, too, a few steps ahead of them.

His father grinds his teeth. “You’re making the wrong call here, Keiji,” he begs—and then damningly adds, “again.”

“Keiji, stay here, let us fix this—” his mother begins, stepping forward, reaching out towards him, and Keiji’s chest feels like it’s going to split open.

They promised this already, that it would be fine, that they just needed to _fix things_. But they’ll never accept Koutarou, they’ll never help Kuroo, and they’ll never accept _Keiji_ —

He stumbles back, choking, “Stay away—”

And then there’s—

It’s happening too fast for Keiji to comprehend, but suddenly Kuroo is there in front of him, demonic wings flared out between Keiji and his family like a shield, tail lashing through the air angrily, eyes narrowed into gleaming slits.

“Don’t touch him,” Kuroo growls, his voice low and barely sounding human anymore.

There are a few yelps, not only from Keiji’s family. Keiji can hear Tsukishima suck in a sharp breath that sounds like fear. People scramble back.

This is what demons look like. Aggressive. Dangerous. Evil. Powerful.

Keiji didn’t even notice Kuroo step past him. It was more as if Kuroo was just a cloud of black smoke—and that’s bad, if Kuroo is losing his physical form now that’s really, really _bad_ , and he’s—the way he’s looking—

Keiji can’t find his bearings. His ears are ringing.

“It’s a shame,” Kuroo hisses out, with a manic grin that bares all of his terribly sharp teeth. He prowls forward, like a predator on the hunt, to where Keiji’s mother has fallen to the ground. Keiji sees her eyes widen with terror. Ren is scrambling in front of her, fur puffed out and hissing.

The air simmers as offensive spells are summoned and charged. Other familiars growl and step in, the larger ones, even Hikaru—Keiji has never seen Hikaru growl at _anything_ —

Kuroo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. With how much his power has grown—maybe, he actually _can_ take all of them in a fight. He steps forward without any hesitation, leaning forward with hungry eyes. Like a promise—like he _can’t wait_ for it, he purrs, “Really, such a _shame_ that your pretty little son is going to be one of the first to die when I go feral.”

Abject fear grips Keiji’s heart.

This isn’t Kuroo. He isn’t that kind of monster, he’s not like that, so why is he—

He’s going to get himself killed like this.

“ _Kuroo_ ,” Keiji hisses, sharp even as his knees feel like they’re going to buckle at any moment.

He misses Kuroo’s cat ears desperately. Without them he doesn’t have any indication if Kuroo is listening to him or not. But at least Kuroo stops leaning forward to get up into Keiji’s mother’s face.

“We’re leaving,” Keiji presses out.

It’s only his death grip on Koutarou’s arm keeping him up in the second that passes. Then Kuroo gets up and turns to him, expression grim and foreign. He walks over to them, wings deflating until they drag behind him once more.

“Put on the necklace,” Keiji tells him, quietly, so his parents won’t hear how badly his voice shakes. He watches Kuroo do it and then turns on his heel.

Tsukishima is pale as a sheet, eyes wide and following each of Kuroo’s movements. There is something wrong there, Keiji thinks, but he doesn’t have it in him to fix that. He grabs Tsukishima’s hand in his free one so that Tsukishima won’t remain frozen where he stands. His family definitely sees that and they’ll think their part, but Keiji is too exhausted to care about it at this point.

He walks out, clutching both Koutarou and Tsukishima, occasionally glancing at Kuroo to make sure that he’s trailing after them. Kuroo has his hands shoved into his pockets, like a sullen teenager along for the family trip that he’s uninterested in. Like he doesn’t care about being here at all. Like it doesn’t matter.

Keiji can’t look at him anymore.

He was supposed to help Kuroo. This was about saving Kuroo’s _life_.

And Keiji failed. This was the most important thing he ever had to do and Keiji _fucked it up_.

Kuroo is still dying and from here on out, it's all _Keiji’s fault_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I guess that could have gone better. But it also could have been _worse_.
> 
> Also I apologize for throwing that 'okaa-sama' in there. I don't really love how it fits, but just 'mother' kind of didn't carry the same vibe of humbly begging your fam for help because your hot new friend is dying (and then being denied, but whatever, am I right?)
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter is one that I like very much! So hopefully we'll get there soon-ish... gonna work through some feelings now that plan 1 of 1 kinda went down the drain and hot new friend tried to eat mom's face ᕕ( ⓛ ω ⓛ )ᕗ


	19. Angry Man Yells At Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I just knew all those frequent updates would get us all spoiled, me included. Now it's been almost two weeks and it feels like forever. So sorry about that :')  
> I just started my new job and it's been a lot of fun and very exciting, but unfortunately it's keeping me busy and away from writing a lot. We'll just have to get used to these slow updates for now, my bad :')
> 
> But please have fun with this one! I've been looking forward to this chapter a lot! :D

Akaashi drags them out of the temple, a few steps down the mostly empty street, and then pulls them into a small alleyway with so much certainty that Kei can only assume Akaashi still knows this spot from his childhood. There are trash containers and large junction boxes, and once they are behind those, the street is barely visible anymore. 

Kei’s arm drops to his side, limp, when Akaashi lets go of him and Bokuto. Immediately, Akaashi rounds on Kuroo, grabbing his scarf and shoving him to the wall so suddenly that Kei jumps back in shock. Kuroo doesn’t so much as twitch, however, looking almost bored. 

“What were you _thinking_?” Akaashi hisses out sharply. Kei would almost think that he’s angry, but the truth is, Akaashi just looks _terrified_. “You could have gotten yourself killed back there!” 

Kuroo cocks his head to the side. The movement is nonchalant. At ease. Seeing it makes Kei’s insides twist violently. 

Kuroo should be the most upset out of all of them. This was their best shot at helping him and they completely blew it. Why isn’t Kuroo taking this more seriously? 

“Calm down, Akaashi,” Kuroo says, and it has the same eerie air of indifference as his posture. His lips draw into a small pout that’s nowhere near appropriate for the situation. “We made it out, it’s fine.” 

“It’s _not_ fine!” Akaashi growls, his eyes so wide that Kei can see the white in them. He looks pale and exhausted. Kei is a little worried that he’s going to pass out on them. But there is still strength in Akaashi’s trembling arms when he pushes Kuroo back against the wall again and shakes him. “That was our best chance! And after that stunt you pulled, there’s no way they’ll help us now.” 

Kuroo rolls his eyes. They look weird, and it takes Kei a moment to realize that they seem to be _glowing_ in this dim alley. Not just reflecting other light, but emitting an eerie shimmer of their own. 

There is silence, more and more of it, as they all wait for Kuroo to say something. Anything. 

But Kuroo just pouts, sullenly, apparently content to be shoved against a wall and watching Akaashi lose his composure. 

Akaashi’s lips move, without sound, and then he clears his throat before choking out, “Do you have any idea what I just did for you?” 

Kei can see it, in the way Kuroo squirms now and looks away, that he does know. That he’s very well aware of how tense things are between Akaashi and his family, and how much it meant that Akaashi went to them for help— 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Kuroo huffs, glaring at Akaashi only after the words are out. 

Akaashi goes very still. Kei hardly dares to breathe. 

That was mean. Downright cruel. It’s not like Akaashi could very well say that he wouldn’t go to his family when Kuroo’s life is on the line. And it was obviously _hard_ for him, and Kei is pretty sure that whatever chance there was left for Akaashi to ever reconcile with them just got ruined, so— 

Kuroo shouldn’t be acting this way. 

He should be more upset, more scared of dying. He shouldn’t be so callous towards Akaashi, and it’s all so _weird_ — 

Akaashi pushes away from Kuroo, his lips trembling. The glimmer of tears in his eyes almost makes Kei want to step forward and comfort him. But that’s not his place. 

Except—Akaashi stands there, trembling faintly, _alone_. Seconds drag by, one by one, and with each one it becomes more painfully obvious that Bokuto is— 

Not there. 

He’s standing only a few steps away, like an empty shell of himself, watching everything with dead eyes. Not doing anything. 

“Fuck you,” Akaashi presses out eventually, his voice thin as he glares at Kuroo. Then he turns, almost stumbling. His teary eyes find Kei’s, and Kei has to struggle not to shrink back from all the pain and hopelessness he finds there. “You talk to him. I can’t do it right now.” 

Numb, shocked, Kei stands there and watches as Akaashi makes his way to Bokuto, grabbing both of his boyfriend’s hands and just—standing there. 

They’re all just standing around. This isn’t right. They should be doing something. They don’t have much time left. 

Kei has always been good at shutting down his emotions and doing what needs to be done. Why can’t he do it now? He has to. Bokuto and Akaashi are falling apart and for some reason Kuroo doesn’t _care_ and— 

Kei doesn’t feel like he can do anything. 

He doesn’t _know_ anything. He doesn’t know about magic or demons or spirits, he still hasn’t really understood what’s going on with Kuroo, he can’t do _anything_ , so why would Akaashi _dump_ this on him— 

Kei can hear them, just barely, Bokuto’s choked whispers of “Didn’t want to make things worse” and “I let you down, Keiji” and “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” and— 

They’re hugging now, both shaking, maybe both crying. But at least they _have_ someone to hold them. No one has done that for Kei since this whole mess started and it’s— 

It’s _unfair_ and Kei can’t do this, can’t take all of this responsibility right now just so Akaashi and Bokuto can hug it out and Kuroo can be an uncooperative asshole— 

A spark of anger blooms in his chest and that is what finally shakes him out of his trance. He sucks in a shaking breath and looks at Kuroo. “Why are you being so stupid?” he asks, because it’s— 

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t understand what’s going on and he doesn’t get why Kuroo is acting this way, but at least _that_ is something he can maybe figure out. 

Kuroo blinks at him, once, now comfortably leaning back against the wall like they’re here just to hang out. He cocks his head to the side with such a bland expression that it makes Kei want to shake him just like Akaashi did. “What’s got you so upset?” Kuroo asks right back. “Thought you’d be happier that I’ll finally stop freeloading at your place.” 

“That’s not—” Kei protests, and then stops, because it’s— 

He can’t think right anymore. Kuroo should know that’s not how things are. Kei complained a lot, but he likes having Kuroo there, and Kuroo should know— 

Does he not know? 

He was strange like this in the forest, too. He seemed to be surprised that Sawamura wouldn’t kill him just for having demon blood. That Sawamura and Sugawara would still offer their help, even knowing what was going on. That seemed to shock Kuroo more than hearing he would die soon. 

Does Kuroo just not believe that they care about him? 

But he never was that way before. He was always confident. Almost annoyingly so. He flirted with them and teased them and was happy enough to insert himself into their lives and then stay there, so why— 

Kuroo rolls his strange, glowing eyes. “You don’t have to push yourself, Tsukki,” he hums, low and steady, almost like a purr, almost like they’re having fun or flirting and it’s— 

It doesn’t belong in this situation, it’s so violently _wrong_ that Kei feels like he’s choking on it— 

“It’s not like you can help me, anyway,” Kuroo says glibly, and all the blood in Kei’s body freezes to ice at once. 

“What?” he asks, toneless. 

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder. The feathered wing behind it flutters oddly for a moment. “Well, you don’t know anything about magic. You can’t help me, so being here is just a waste of your time, right? You can just grab the crybaby over there—” 

Bokuto. He has to mean Bokuto. It’s true that Bokuto hasn’t contributed anything, but this isn’t right. Kuroo doesn’t talk like this about Bokuto. 

“—and really, you can take Akaashi, too, now that his family is out,” Kuroo raises his voice, so that they can all hear him, hear these horrible things— “You’re obviously no help at this point. You should go home. I’ll handle the rest with Kenma and the others—” 

“What?” Kei asks again, dumbly. He feels cold. Very cold and numb. 

Kuroo isn’t like this. Or is he? 

Kei never thought Kuroo would stay with them once Kenma was back, but—he didn’t expect to be dropped so easily. So quickly. The second they’re not useful anymore. 

Was that always how it was going to be? Or is this something new? Did Kuroo change more than they thought he did? 

Kei looks him over, and Kuroo’s eyes sharpen in that moment, almost like he knows. Knows—something, something that Kei himself is still trying to understand. 

Kuroo pushes himself away from the wall and closes in on Kei. Slowly. Surely. There is pressure in each one of his steps, making it hard for Kei to breathe. 

“What is it, Tsukki?” Kuroo asks, again in that low purr that Kei only knows from when they’re fucking or cuddling afterwards, and it’s—it hurts to hear it like this. Kuroo leans in very close, suddenly and without warning, and on instinct Kei startles back. 

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest, beating too fast. He’s sweating but still too cold, breathing hard, and he doesn’t know how much of that is shock at Kuroo’s words and how much of it is—it was like this, in the forest. Kuroo was like this, different and dangerous, but not—right now, he’s not like that, he shouldn’t be like that, he clearly recognizes them all, so Kei shouldn’t be this scared of him— 

Kuroo looks at him, eyes dark and predatory, and it’s like he knows every single one of Kei’s thoughts. His lips curl into a grin, missing the sharp teeth that are masked by the spells, but that makes the expression no less hungry, no less intimidating. “Are you scared of me?” Kuroo asks, and he sounds like he already knows the answer, and he sounds like he _likes_ it that way. 

Kei flinches when he feels a wall against his back, realizes only then that he’s been steadily retreating from Kuroo’s slow approach. His breath hitches before it comes out even faster. “Stop it,” he demands, his voice too quiet for his liking. 

Kuroo’s grin widens. Kei wants to run. “What, aren’t you going to stick around?” Kuroo drawls. His eyes are too wide. Manic. This close, Kei can see how the gold of his iris is bleeding out into his sclera, like blood spilling from a cut. “Maybe you could do _something_ if you just try really hard. You could make Bo cry more or tell Akaashi to his face what a terrible job he just did. You’re good at saying things like that, right—” 

“Shut up,” Kei hisses, something in him boiling over, hurt and defensive and oddly—protective. He knows that he’s made mistakes—with Bokuto most of all, because Bokuto was fine last night, before Kei told him how useless they both were. And even before that Kei threw so many other mean things at him because it seemed unfair how strong Bokuto was, how he could take everything and have everything while Kei was fracturing— 

But Bokuto tried so hard to help. Always. He was there for Kei the last time Kuroo was scary like this, and that only makes it more painful that he’s not here now, because of what Kei said to him— 

And Akaashi did his best. They all saw. Kuroo has no right to diminish that, to look down on his effort, there is no reason— 

It makes Kei angry and he shoves Kuroo away, finally dares to with the flames simmering to life in his chest. Kuroo stumbles back easily, despite how terrifying and unmovable he seemed just seconds ago. 

“What, did I hit a nerve?” Kuroo asks, backing away but with that terrible grin still on his face, all wrong. Kei wants to wipe it away. 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Kei snaps, and it comes to him easier than he thought it would, the power to step forward. He closes in on Kuroo, determined not to flee again. This time, Kei is going to make _him_ back down. “You’re just going to throw us away now that you don’t need our help anymore?” 

“Wow, Tsukki, I didn’t think _you_ of all people would be so _clingy_ ,” Kuroo taunts, sharp and mocking. It hurts more than Kei expects it to. 

“I’m _not_ ,” he snaps back, reflexively. He shoves Kuroo back again, just because he _can_. He doesn’t care. He’ll show Kuroo. “You think I’ll care if you’re gone? Some random guy who showed up at our place without warning and messed everything up? You were an okay hook-up, but more trouble than you’re worth. I don’t know how your _Kenma_ and _Daichi_ and _Suga_ put up with you!” 

Kuroo’s grin, scarily, is almost gleeful. “Wow, Tsukki, tell me how you really feel,” he chuckles, like Kei’s words are nothing more than passing entertainment to him. 

They shouldn’t be. They should _hurt_ , like Kuroo’s words hurt. Kei wants to see that fucking smug look crack and break. He hates seeing it there, unchanging, as if Kei’s words don’t matter to Kuroo at all. As if _Kei_ doesn’t matter at all. 

He resists the urge to shove Kuroo again. Instead, he draws himself up higher, crossing his arms and schooling his expression into something just as unaffected as Kuroo’s. Kei can at least pretend. 

Maybe if he pretends hard enough, it will come true. 

“Then again, I guess they’re _not_ putting up with you,” he huffs, and it’s easy, almost too easy, to feel collected now that he’s pulled up his façade. There’s a storm still raging beneath the surface, violent and angry, pushing Kei to keep going. But on the outside, he is calm. 

It’s working, he thinks. There’s a small twitch in Kuroo’s expression that he can’t read. But it has to mean that he’s getting somewhere. 

Kei puts on a small smirk. “Isn’t that right?” he hums, cold and almost as glib as Kuroo was earlier. “They’re gone now. All of your friends. You’d think they would try harder to be here for you in your last few hours, but I guess they don’t care so much for you after all.” 

He thinks he sees Kuroo falter for a moment. Sees Kuroo’s lips press together, tight and tense, but then it’s gone again and Kuroo’s expression is nothing but mocking. “What, and you’re going to be here? Gonna stick it out with the demon who already tried to kill you once? Are you really that desperate for friends, Tsukki, I didn’t think you’d want company that badly—” 

“At least I have _some_ ,” Kei bites out. “Do _you_? Because I don’t see your precious Kenma here right now and he’s the only one you have, right? The only one you need? Too bad he doesn’t seem to care about you so much. Or maybe he does, maybe he’ll come back just in time for you to tear him apart like you did with Bokuto—” 

It’s almost funny, in a really painful way, how quickly Kuroo’s demeanour changes at that. His glib, calm expression shatters like glass hitting the ground. 

“Stop,” Kuroo hisses, sharp and defensive. Anger blazes in his golden eyes, and something else. 

Fear, Kei thinks. 

“Leave Kenma out of this,” Kuroo demands, and it’s thin now, small— 

Kei should have known. What does it matter to Kuroo that he hurt Bokuto or that Kei was scared for his life, when there’s—it’s always fucking _Kozume Kenma_ that’s the sensitive spot. Kei should have pushed there from the start. Should have realized that this would get him through Kuroo’s smug, hard exterior— 

He hesitates, for a moment, before saying more. 

When did this become about _hurting_ Kuroo? Why does Kei want to see him break, instead of—instead of what? What was he trying to do earlier? 

He is acting just like he did when he was fighting with Bokuto, and that wasn’t okay—he’s just as cruel as Kuroo has been, and Kei hated that, he just wanted to make Kuroo _stop_ — 

But Kuroo said all those mean things, and then Kei was too afraid to think clearly anymore, too angry, too hurt, it’s all— 

They’re all falling apart. All of them, except for Kuroo who’s too calm, too composed, the only one pushing for things with clear intent, but it’s— 

Kei is there, right on the edge of grasping something. But he has faltered, too caught up in his own thoughts, and then suddenly the sharp grin is back on Kuroo’s face. 

“You don’t understand what Kenma and I have,” Kuroo defends, but it sounds like a taunt, like an insult almost. “I could explain, but I’m not sure if it would help, since the only things you know about relationships comes from constantly being a third wheel to Bokuto and Akaashi because _no one else likes you_ —” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or maybe just the wrong thing for Kei to hear. 

He has _longed_ for what Bokuto and Akaashi have. For them both. It’s an ever-present ache in his chest when he doesn’t carefully shove it into a box and ignore it. It’s painful and stupid and humiliating, and Kei is constantly hoping that they’ll never find out because then all of this would be over—the evenings they spend together, eating and cooking with the three of them, watching movies, having sex, living with them— 

Kei can’t lose that. Even though he knows he will eventually, he’s not ready to let go yet. He _just_ allowed himself to indulge, to not shove away Bokuto’s constant attempts at including him more, to admire Akaashi’s level head and strength of will, to add Kuroo to this mess, to— 

Kuroo can’t expose all of that now. Kei can’t lose them all at once. 

He’d like to feel anger, would like to blame it on that, but all that is filling him are fear and panic and the painful need for a love he’ll never have. It wells up inside of him and swallows him down, and the next time Kei breathes, it feels like he’s made of ice. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re acting this way,” he chokes out. It’s rawer than he would like, betraying how much he’s feeling. But at least he can speak at all. “I’m starting to understand that all you can do is hurt people.” His voice is getting better. Louder. “You hurt Bokuto—you attacked him like some fucking animal, and—and you hurt Akaashi even though he’s only trying to help you, and you’re—the forest wasn’t fucking _enough_ for you, was it, you’re still trying to hurt me now—” 

Kuroo is staring at him now, lips parted slightly, eyes wide and it’s—it’s almost there, almost what Kei wants to see. Kei is going to show him that he doesn’t care, that he’s not _clingy_ or _desperate for company_. He can drop Kuroo just as easily as Kuroo has dropped them, and Kei will—Kei can _hurt him back_ , because he _matters_ to Kuroo at least _a little bit_ , and then when Kuroo is crying, Kei will _leave_ and it will serve Kuroo right. 

Kei draws himself up higher. “And don't pretend that you’re not going to hurt your stupid fucking _Kenma_ , too,” he hisses, smooth and sharp, and it’s a rush of power when he sees Kuroo flinch just as expected—Kei can do this. He leans in, gets really into Kuroo’s face as he crows, “It’s _all_ you ever do. Does it feel good, huh? I hope you’ll be _happy_ now, when you’re dying _all alone_. It’s exactly what a selfish monster like you deserves—” 

Something wraps around him from behind. Steady, strong arms squeeze his chest, covered in a garish coat. 

“Tsukki, don’t be mean to him,” Bokuto chokes out, wet and almost a whisper. His warm breath hits Kei’s ear and neck, and Kei wants to say that the shiver that’s going down his spine is from that, instead of— 

He can’t falter now, can’t slow down, or he’ll— 

“Fuck off,” he presses out, trying to shake Bokuto off but it’s not working. “Leave me alone, I’m fucking angry—” 

“We’re all,” Bokuto sniffles, and it’s thin, and somehow because of how quiet his voice is, Kei doesn’t dare to talk over him, because then he wouldn’t _hear_ —“We’re all upset, Tsukki.” 

“Fuck you,” Kei hisses, helplessly, because he can’t— 

His anger is the only thing keeping him together, so he can’t— 

The warmth of Bokuto’s hug slowly sinks into him, melting the ice and the fear and the terror and—something eases up inside of Kei’s chest, the knot that was strangling him before, allowing him to breathe for the first time in too long and it’s all— 

Akaashi steps up next to him, taking Kei’s hand and just holding it and it’s— 

Kei doesn’t want to fall apart— 

But he does. 

His tears feel too hot on his frozen cheeks when they come, like they’ll burn right through his skin and leave red tracks in their wake. A sob tries to work its way out of his throat and he wants to swallow it down, but that only makes his shoulders shake worse. 

Kei looks at Kuroo, and he’s— 

Kuroo is still wrong. His expression is wary, but detached, and he’s so far away from them— 

And so alone. 

Kuroo is _alone_ , and with Bokuto and Akaashi so close Kei can finally _think_ about how strange that is. Because contrary to what Kei just said, Kuroo actually has a lot of people who care about him and who tried to help him— 

It’s like waking up from a dream, recounting what he just yelled at Kuroo. He’ll have to apologize later, but right now it’s not the most pressing issue because— 

Kuroo is alone when he shouldn’t be. 

Kuroo is the only one who doesn’t look upset, even though he should be the most upset. He’s the only one who seems to feel differently, think differently, act differently, following a script unknown to the rest of them. 

Kuroo is being mean. He made Akaashi back down and give up. He mocked Bokuto. He made Kei feel so scared and angry that he was ready to grab the other two and just _leave_ Kuroo here. What weird string of coincidences and misunderstandings could _possibly_ lead to— 

Kuroo is doing this on purpose. 

The realization is so sudden that Kei sways when it hits him. Bokuto and Akaashi hold him steady as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

It seems utterly ridiculous, but all of the pieces are clicking into place so neatly that Kei has no doubt about it. 

“You want this,” he breathes, noting both Akaashi and Bokuto shifting in confusion at his change. But the really, truly _terrifying_ thing is the sudden shock on Kuroo’s face—like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

Kuroo steps back, wings fluttering lightly, but there isn’t much room to go in the small alley. 

“What?” Akaashi asks, confused. 

For a moment, Kei doubts himself. Akaashi is smart and collected, even more so than Kei. He would never fall for something as simple as Kuroo provoking him, would never be manipulated into leaving Kuroo behind because of a few taunts— 

But Akaashi isn’t thinking clearly. None of them are. Kei could hit himself for how blind he’s been, because they were all so out of it, and Kuroo didn’t even have to try very hard. He just had to say a few dumb words and they were all already crumbling anyway— 

“You stopped your friends from coming,” Kei says, out loud, as his mind is whirring to put together the whole picture. “You’re trying to make us leave. You don’t want our help, you want everyone to leave you alone so you can—” 

Kei’s voice leaves him before the last word. 

He can’t say it out loud, too caught up in the realization that— 

They all want to save Kuroo’s life, but Kuroo _doesn’t_. 

Kuroo wants to die. 

That’s why he’s so calm. So unbothered. Why he isn’t scrambling and panicking like the rest of them in a desperate attempt to change things. He’s just sitting out his last few hours before the inevitable happens. 

Kei’s hand almost hurts from how tightly Akaashi is gripping it. “No,” Akaashi chokes out, but Kei can see it in his eyes, that he’s realizing it, too. 

Kuroo shifts, uneasily, looking more uncomfortable than Kei has seen him ever since this whole thing started. 

Kei swallows. “Why?” he asks, not sure if he wants to hear the answer. 

Kuroo looks down, and Kei wishes desperately that Kuroo still had his cat ears. The tail. Kei can’t read him like this. This version of Kuroo is a stranger to him. 

“Why do you care?” Kuroo huffs out, quietly. His shoulders are shaking, the motion becoming more apparent as it carries over into his limp wings. 

“I don’t know,” Kei grumbles, feeling too vulnerable with the admission that he _does care_. 

Akaashi squeezes his hand. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asks, like it’s just that simple. 

“Kuroo, please—” Bokuto rasps out, his voice breaking. 

Kuroo looks up at them. His lips are a tight, white line. His eyes are shining with tears. He finally, _finally_ looks as scared and pained and torn as Kei thought he might feel, and seeing it now is both agony and relief. 

“I don’t want to—” Kuroo starts, voice hitching. His first tears fall. “I don’t want to be this. You think I fucking _want_ this?” 

Kei wants to step forward and hold him, but to his surprise both Akaashi and Bokuto hold him where he is. 

Kuroo draws himself up higher, but that only makes the wings flare out, until they brush against the buildings caging them in. He looks small, in between all those feathers. 

“I don’t want to—” He chokes on a sob. Shakes his head. 

Kei thinks he understands now why Akaashi and Bokuto stopped him. Kuroo is finally talking. Finally _feeling_. 

“Kenma is going to bleed himself dry, trying to stop this,” Kuroo chokes out, his voice growing louder. “And then without him, I will lose it, and I’ll—I’ll kill Bokuto because he keeps jumping into danger without thinking, and then Daichi will have to kill me before I hurt someone else and it’s going to break him, and I don’t—I don’t _want_ that! If I have to die, I want to do it without dragging all of you down with me!” 

Kuroo’s voice cracks horribly and his shoulders slump, defeated. Kei can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, like he’s just run a marathon. 

“Kuroo,” Akaashi says weakly, his voice hoarse and shaking. “It doesn’t have to be that way—if we just stop this in time, we can—” 

Kuroo rubs furiously at the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Akaashi, could you please—just, just be a bit more protective of your boyfriend,” he bites out, and Kei could almost believe that he’s angry if he wasn’t still crying so pathetically. “You weren’t there in the forest. You didn’t see. Don’t you know that I tried to—to—” 

His voice breaks. 

Akaashi makes a small, careful movement forward, and Kuroo bristles in response, his wings flaring out and cracking against the narrow walls with a sickening sound. 

“I tried to _kill_ Bo and Tsukki,” he spits out. His face, as he says it, has Kei’s stomach turning over with more than just fear. There’s too much pain in Kuroo’s expression, too much anguish, and a blank _hatred_ that is completely unfamiliar to Kei. Kuroo’s eyes are wide, shining with an abnormal light that reflects in his tears. His lips are pulled into a shaking grimace, trying to cover everything with a smile that doesn’t look anything but _wrong_. “Don’t you see? It’s better this way.” 

Akaashi stares at him, wide-eyed. Stunned. 

Kei is sure he made his assumptions when he saw Bokuto’s injured arm, but he wouldn’t put it past Bokuto to have told a story that made things seem less serious than they were. To have painted over how bad it really was. 

Kei was afraid he would _die_ out there. He still is, when he sees Kuroo in the wrong light, eyes shining yellow and manic and full of loathing. 

It’s very silent as Akaashi doesn’t say anything, hands limp around Kei’s. Kei isn’t sure if Akaashi is that horrified or if he just, like Kei, doesn’t know what to say to fix this situation. 

“You want to die?” Bokuto murmurs, unexpected and quiet, startling Kei from his helplessness. “Because of me?” 

Kuroo flinches. Looks away. “Bo—” 

“Because of _me_ ,” Bokuto sobs out, his voice cracking. Kei can feel him shaking, with how close they’re pressed together. “Please, no, Kuroo, don’t—if you’re going to do something for me, then you have to _live, please_ —” 

Kuroo draws a step back. As if he wants to run away. He gives Bokuto a pitiful look. “Bo, it’s not—I already hurt you twice. I just. I just want—I don’t— _fuck_ —” He crumbles, curling into himself even as his wings remain flared out. “You’re so trusting and you can’t trust _me_ , please, I—I just—it’s better like this. It should end here.”

Shocked, Kei watches as Kuroo stops shaking. As Kuroo’s face twists into a bitter, empty smile that doesn’t—it doesn’t even look _faked_. Kei’s stomach turns violently. 

“So you’ve already given up,” he mutters, finally putting it into words. 

It hurts to say it out loud. To even think it. Kei was figuring it out, but now it stings like an ugly cut. As if a small part of him was still hoping, despite everything, to hear Kuroo deny it. Except Kuroo doesn’t. 

Bokuto sobs behind him and squeezes Kei tighter. 

Kei feels cold, like a corpse. Like Bokuto’s warmth and strength are the only things keeping his heart beating. 

They didn’t notice. All this time, Kuroo has been ready to push them away and die alone, and they didn’t realize. They were blind. Stupid. 

Maybe if they had noticed—if Kuroo had been trying harder when they talked to Akaashi’s family, then maybe they could have— 

“Fuck,” Akaashi whispers hoarsely. His fingers are freezing and trembling faintly when he squeezes Kei’s hand again, before he lets go to take a careful step towards Kuroo. “Kuroo, let’s—” 

“No,” Kuroo is shaking his head before Akaashi can even get anywhere near him. He stumbles back, literally stumbles, getting caught on his half-spread wings. He looks scared. 

Kei doesn’t know how to fix this. But he wants to. He wants to draw Kuroo into a hug as steady and reassuring as Bokuto’s is, and make him believe that they can do this, that the future doesn’t have to be as bleak as Kuroo losing himself and killing all his friends— 

When did Kei ever become an optimist? All of this is ridiculous. Kuroo won’t believe him anyway. He said it himself, Kei is just a normal human with no knowledge about magic and no idea what’s actually happening. 

But he knows Kuroo, a little bit. It’s glaringly obvious, right now, how much Kei _doesn’t_ know him. But maybe, hopefully, he knows just _enough_. 

“If this Kenma is as smart as you always say he is,” he grits out, and then his voice leaves him when Kuroo’s wide, glowing, scared eyes settle on him. 

Kei can’t breathe right, and he reaches for Bokuto’s hand without thinking. Bokuto allows him to hold it and leech the comfort that’s usually just for Akaashi. 

“If he’s so smart,” Kei starts again, his chest tight and aching but at least he’s talking, “then he’ll find a better option than boosting you until it kills him. He’ll find a way to _stop this_.” 

Kuroo’s eyes widen, just a bit. 

Kei feels too vulnerable, heat crawling up in his core, violent and aggressive, as Kuroo’s expression softens with something akin to consideration—maybe even _hope_ —and it’s too much. 

He clears his throat. “So stop being such an idiot and let us help you,” he huffs, lamenting that he has to let go of Bokuto’s hand so he can cross his arms. 

Kuroo is still watching and it’s too much focus on Kei for his liking, so it’s almost a relief when Kuroo blinks a few times. Almost, because then Kuroo is grimacing, pinched and unhappy. 

That can’t be good. 

“Even if he finds a way, it won’t fix this,” Kuroo mutters. He takes another step backwards, and though it’s not a lot of distance, Kei feels like he’s pulling impossibly far away. 

Kei wants to reach out, to follow, but he stops himself. Kuroo doesn’t look like he wants that. 

Akaashi, apparently, doesn’t have the nerve for such delicacy anymore. He stomps forward, determined and with a grim expression like he’s going to war. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t falter, even as Kuroo steadily backs away. Kuroo reaches the end of the alley a few steps later, flinching violently as his wings hit the cold wall, and then Akaaashi is on him, seeming to tower over him even though he’s smaller. 

“We’re helping you,” Akaashi says. His voice is rough from crying and his eyes are red. He still sounds so determined that Kei almost believes him despite himself. 

“Akaashi,” Kuroo begins, only to be waved off promptly. 

“No,” Akaashi insists firmly. “We already saved your life once and we’re doing it again. We’re not giving up. _I’m_ not giving up. We’ll figure something out and you will _deal with it_ , and if you don’t, I _will_ go and tell Kozume-san about your self-destructive behavior and then he’ll tell you off and we’ll help you _anyway_.” 

Behind him, Kei hears Bokuto suck in a sharp, awed breath of air. 

_Same_ , Kei thinks, his heart beating far too fast. 

“Are you offering me your help or threatening me?” Kuroo asks, forcing playfulness into his tone and failing badly. 

“Both,” Akaashi replies stiffly. “Because you’re being an idiot.” 

“I’m not,” Kuroo defends. “I’m not even—you and Tsukki, you’re reading way too much into this. It’s not like I _wanted_ Kenma to pass out and stay back.” 

“Didn’t you?” Akaashi’s voice is cool, his eyes sharp. He blinks, once, and it feels like he’s peeling away every layer of lies from Kuroo. “Then I suppose you won’t mind if I tell him.” 

As Akaashi turns away, Kuroo reaches out for him too quickly, giving himself away. “Wait,” he gasps. His halts, hand hovering mid-air, traitorously. 

Akaashi stops. 

They both stand there, silent, and Kei hardly dares to breathe. 

“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt in this,” Kuroo says then, so quiet that it’s barely more than a whisper. 

Kei sees the tremor run through Akaashi’s shoulders, feels it in his own. It’s painful how small Kuroo sounds. How lost. 

Tears are gathering in Akaashi’s eyes again as he looks at Kuroo. “Then let us help,” he asks, softly. 

Kuroo looks caught, uncomfortably so, his gaze darting away from Akaashi’s crumbling face. 

Akaashi’s shoulders shake. His brows furrow, almost like he’s angry. “Look at us, Kuroo,” he demands. “Look at Bo. Do you really think we’ll be fine at the end of this if you’re dead?” 

Kuroo does look. 

Kei squirms uncomfortably under his eyes, and he feels Bokuto shift behind him, almost like he’s trying to hide behind Kei. 

This is all hitting Bokuto the hardest, and it has caused them nothing but pain and chaos. But now Akaashi is turning it around, showing Kuroo how badly this is affecting them and it’s— 

It’s smart. Terrifyingly so. And _ruthless_ , to use Bokuto’s feelings for Kuroo this way— 

Kei doesn’t think he could do it. If he got to date Bokuto, if he had that love all to himself, and then he found out that Bokuto is falling for someone else—to take advantage of that in order to save this other person—how does Akaashi do it? 

How could Akaashi put himself back together again, so soon after breaking down? How can he get through to Kuroo now without losing himself in his own petty emotions like Kei did? How can he do it all without yelling or being mean or hurtful— 

Something warm and soft wells up in Kei’s chest, looking at Akaashi’s tear-stained face, grim and pale and tired but ultimately determined. It’s not the first time Kei has felt like this, but it’s the first time he doesn’t have the emotional strength left to push it away. 

Quietly, in that moment, in the midst of all the chaos, Kei accepts that he will probably be hung up on Akaashi Keiji for the rest of his long, miserable, lonely life. 

Kuroo squirms under Akaashi’s eyes for only a few moments more. Then his shoulders slump with defeat. His wings drape over him like a shabby coat. 

He looks lost like that. Lonely. 

Nothing at all like the terrifying monster that attacked Kei in the forest. 

Akaashi is shifting, fingers tugging at the end of his sleeves nervously, like he doesn’t know whether he should go and comfort Kuroo or keep up his firm, stoic exterior. 

Kei slowly—unwillingly—extricates himself from Bokuto’s hug. He has to suppress a shiver at the harsh cold creeping back in—Bokuto runs hot, no need to read too much into it—and then another shiver when he looks at Bokuto’s heartbroken expression as he pulls away. Before Kei can waver or overthink it too much, he grabs the big idiot’s arm and shoves him towards Kuroo. 

That other idiot needs a hug more than Kei does. 

Bokuto stumbles towards Kuroo, uncertainly, like a leaf drifting in a slow breeze. They exchange a look that Kei can’t decipher. For a second, Kei doubts that he did the right thing. He doesn’t know Bokuto like this, doesn’t know him defeated and quiet and forlorn, and maybe he just did something very wrong— 

Then Kuroo lets his head sink, ever so slightly, and Bokuto steps forward so it can rest perfectly on his shoulder. Bokuto’s arms rise up around Kuroo, holding him, wings and all. There’s a hitched, hurt noise, like a sniffle but rawer, that Kei can place to Bokuto only because of the way his shoulders shake. He’s never heard something like this from Bokuto before, never seen him so lost— 

And it’s terrifying. 

Kei was so often annoyed by Bokuto’s endless energy and joy, by his boundless optimism and constant will to do something, but now that they’re facing something so severe and difficult and they need someone strong and reliable more than ever— 

It’s daunting. 

How easily Bokuto broke. How much Akaashi is crumbling without him. How scared Kei feels, now that the man who was always willing to pull them through hard times and protect him in dangerous situations suddenly seems _gone_. 

He doesn’t realize how badly his throat has closed up once more, until Akaashi cautiously nudges his shoulder and he draws in a rattling, painful breath. 

“We need to think of something new,” Akaashi says, and if it wasn’t for the scratchy sound to his voice, Kei could almost believe that he’s calm. “My—I don’t think my family will come around anymore.” 

“Okay,” Kei says, and then he clears his throat because he somehow sounds even worse than Akaashi. “Do you have any ideas?” 

Akaashi shrugs his shoulders. He is still pale, scarily so, and Kei thinks again they’ll have to keep an eye on him, make sure that he doesn’t keel over unconscious. “I’m not sure. I thought we had a chance here, if I asked—I don’t see anyone else taking a gamble on us and our demon.” 

Kei takes in that information and thinks. It’s easier now than it has been since the forest. Here, in this quiet, cold alley, with Akaashi’s teary eyes looking at him. Kei sneaks a small glance at Bokuto and Kuroo, locked in place with Bokuto standing still as a statue and Kuroo’s face buried in Bokuto’s shoulder. It’s eerie, how neither of them seems to move or say anything at all, but it also fills Kei with a strange sense of calm just to see them _with each other_. 

He mulls over Akaashi’s words. 

“Are there any other old families who could help us?” he asks, because Akaashi kind of made it sound like there are. 

Akaashi inclines his head ever so slightly, picking at his sleeves. “There are the Shimizus. They don’t go back quite as far as my—as the Akaashis, but they could have what we need. I just doubt that they would help us. They’ve lost just as many people to demons as the Akaashis, and it’s not their job to do these things because they aren’t the city temple.” 

“Who gets to be city temple, anyway?” Kei asks. It’s beginning to feel relevant and it irks Kei that he doesn’t know. He’s _sick_ of not knowing things, of sitting around cluelessly and only later regretting that he didn’t ask any questions. 

“It’s a title awarded to the most important temple in the city,” Akaashi explains. “It brings duty and prestige. It gets decided every eight years who holds the position. The Akaashis have held it for over a hundred and forty years now.” 

“And the Shimizus?” Kei asks, intrigued. He’s gathering the beginnings of an idea. 

“They are second in line, almost always,” Akaashi says. “My family has a strange relationship with them. They are horribly beneath us, according to my father and grandmother, but still less beneath us than anyone else. There have been some tacit friendships and marriages. My mother used to take me to their temple a few times when I was younger, but—I don’t know anyone there well enough to ask for this kind of favor. No one would risk themselves like this for a demon.” 

“Why not?” Kei asks. He can’t help the spark of hope creeping into his voice as his idea begins to take shape. 

Akaashi seems to notice, fixing wide eyes on him. Kei’s heart beats a little bit faster in his chest. 

“What you said to your family wasn’t a lie,” Kei points out, slowly, so Akaashi can stop him if he says anything overtly stupid. But Akaashi doesn’t. “Helping Kuroo and uncovering this plot that Hinata and the others are onto is important, and it would put them in a good light. It could be good for the Shimizus, right? The Akaashis turned us down not only because it’s risky, but also for personal reasons.” 

Kei watches Akaashi’s face carefully at that, notes the badly-concealed flinch, the way he’s gritting his teeth. But it’s the truth and it can help them now, and that is more important than frayed family relations. 

“If the Shimizus help solve this instead, it could give them a leg up the next time,” Kei argues. “They don’t have to like us or want to help us. But if they’ve been playing second fiddle for over a century, then maybe someone there will _dislike_ the Akaashis enough to want to support us. Just out of spite. Just because the Akaashis turned us down. Just so they can do something that the Akaashis _can’t_.” 

Akaashi’s eyes shift between going wide and narrow. He bits his lower lip. His brows scrunch together, then ease up, then furrow again. 

For almost one whole, excruciating minute, Kei waits for Akaashi to point out the flaw in his plan. The part where he got something essential wrong. The reason why it won’t work and isn’t an option. 

“You could be right,” Akaashi says then, his voice shaking slightly. 

Wide, wet, _hopeful_ eyes settle on Kei, and Kei has to fight the urge to step back just so he won’t get lost in them. Or do something else that’s overly stupid, like grab Akaashi and pull him close and kiss him. Kei really, really wants to kiss him right now, which is really dumb because they have way bigger problems. 

“I’m right?” he asks, just to be sure. It feels too good to be true. 

He doesn’t know magic. He barely understands what’s going on. It can’t possibly be _him_ that comes up with the idea that will save Kuroo. 

Even more importantly, that would mean that they _have_ an idea to save Kuroo. That there’s still a chance. Kei doesn’t know if he can take on the crushing weight of _hoping_ once more. 

“Yes, Tsukishima, you’re _right_ ,” Akaashi breathes. A strong, beautifully honest smile blooms on his face. He grabs Kei’s hands, both of them, and squeezes them tightly as he leans in close. For a short moment, Kei thinks Akaashi will get even closer and they’ll really kiss— 

Then it passes and Akaashi pulls away, walking hurriedly towards Bokuto and Kuroo. 

Kei’s brain is being _very_ stupid about kissing right now, he decides, and shoves it all away. 

“Come on,” Akaashi says, laying his gentle hands—soft and so warm when they just touched Kei’s—on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Come on, there’s still a chance. We need to go.” 

Boktuo looks at him slowly, his eyes dull. “’Kaashi?” he croaks out. “We—we can—?” 

“Yeah,” Akaashi answers, his voice so steady that it leaves no room for doubt. “Tsukishima had a great idea. We’re going. Come on.” 

Kuroo’s face rises from Bokuto’s shoulder as he steps back. Kei thought that he was crying, but Kuroo’s face is dry. There is, however, something fragile and quietly wondering in Kuroo’s glowing eyes when he looks at Kei. 

Kei feels too hot despite the winter cold. His gaze drops down to his shoes. 

He is tugged along by Akaashi on the way out of the alley. Kei stumbles and then has to look up, noting how terrible Akaashi looks out in the light—more alive and brighter than when he pulled them in here, but his eyes are blood-shot and his cheeks are still shining with wetness and his nose is dripping, which doesn’t fit Akaashi’s graceful appearance at all. 

Kei digs around his pockets until he finds a pack of tissues and holds it out. “Here.” 

Akaashi gives him a surprised look. 

Kei squirms again and resists the urge to look back at his shoes, if only because Akaashi is perceptive and would definitely pick up on it. He holds the tissues out a bit further. “I don’t think the Shimizus will think well of us if we show up looking like a couple of teenage girls who just watched Titanic,” he mutters by way of explanation. 

He sees Kuroo quickly turning away, hiding a grin, and even the corners of Bokuto’s lips twitch, weakly, just for a moment. Akaashi’s face lights up with a beutiful smile. “Good thinking. Thank you, Tsukishima.” 

Kei’s heart is beating far, far too fast, and despite the horrible situation they’re in, he can’t say that he entirely dislikes it. 

Akaashi takes the tissues from him. “Now where did Tanaka go with the car?” he murmurs, looking around as he begins to walk. 

And even though everything is horrible—even though Kuroo is still dying, even though Akaashi just argued horribly with his family, even though Bokuto still only drifts around like an empty shell— 

All Kei can do is follow them, wherever they go from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing them being mean to each other is just too much fun >:3c  
> But now they finally talked about their feelings! Would you look at that! Don't you just feel great now?


	20. Man Forced To Come Up With 45 Seconds Of Facial Expressions While His Heart Is Slowly Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay, another late update from me!
> 
> I hope you guys are all holding up okay with everything going on out there. Please take care of yourselves and remember to take breaks and do nice things for yourself, especially now when we're all dealing with the stress of multiple bad things all happening at the same time. Like, come on, world, pick one disaster and stick to it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“I didn’t mean to jump at your family like that,” Kuroo says when they’re in the car. His voice is so quiet that Tsukki and Tanaka who are sitting in the front probably can’t even hear him. Koutarou can feel the slight tremble in Kuroo’s fingers as he speaks.

Koutarou still hasn’t been able to make himself let go of Kuroo. He’s stubbornly holding on to one hand, even now that they’re driving and even though it feels weird. Koutarou doesn’t know if it’s because of the spells that make it _look_ like a normal human hand or because it’s actually a black demonic claw, but it feels coarse and stiff in his hold, like fabric. And cold. As if Kuroo is already dead. A constant reminder of what looms over them.

It’s uncomfortable, but Koutarou still prefers to hold on to Kuroo like this, rather than not at all. Maybe if he holds Kuroo’s hand long enough, it will get warm again.

Keiji goes, if possible, a shade paler at Kuroo’s admission. He doesn’t say anything like ‘It’s okay’ or ‘No harm done’.

He doesn’t have to, because they all know it would be a lie. This means that Kuroo is beginning to lose control again, and that is very bad. Even Koutarou knows that, and he is really stupid. That’s why he can’t do anything. He can’t help. He couldn’t even help Keiji, even though he _knew_ that Keiji needed him. He saw it. But he didn’t know what to do that wouldn’t make things worse. He always makes everything worse.

The last few times they saw Keiji’s family, years ago, Keiji would always tell him very insistently not to say anything stupid or incriminating. So Koutarou always tried his hardest not to say anything at all, because he could never quite understand the rules of what was dumb or incriminating by the Akaashis’ standards. Keiji always seemed glad and relieved when he stayed quiet, so—

But this time was different. Koutarou knew. But he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything to help. He doesn’t know how to help.

He’s so tired. He wants to go back home and curl up in bed with Keiji. And Kuroo. And Tsukki, too.

But they can’t. This is not over yet, and when it’s over—it will probably be because they failed and Kuroo is dead.

He wishes he could do something. He just can’t. He’s stupid and useless and the weight of that is crushing him.

He wants to at least hold on to Kuroo’s weird, dead hand until they arrive, but then Tanaka gets a phone call that Kenma has woken up and Kuroo gets so excited that he leans forward and pulls his hand away.

Koutarou doesn’t dare to reach for it again and Kuroo doesn’t offer it.

Kenma, Sawamura, and Sugawara don’t want them to wait for them, because apparently that would take too long. The sun is up by now. They’re running out of time and they didn’t have much of that to begin with. Kuroo wilts when he hears that Kenma won’t come.

Koutarou supposes it makes sense like this. The only people who are really needed for this trip to the Shimizu temple are Kuroo and Keiji. And Tsukki, maybe, since he’s really smart. Maybe Tanaka, too. He has to know a lot about stuff like this, being a creature hunter and all that.

The only one who is dead weight is Koutarou.

Tanaka parks the car in a small lot with light earth that’s surrounded by trees. Maybe this place looks nice in the summer, but right now it’s winter and the naked branches hang down sadly, without leaves, thin and scraggly against the overcast sky.

They all file out of the car. It takes a while for Kuroo to extricate his wings. They managed to squeeze him into the middle and shuffle his wings over the backrest into the trunk, which seemed practical at the time, but now Kuroo is wincing as he straightens up, like he’s sore.

“I’m getting too old to be sucked into Hinata’s adventures,” Kuroo groans, stretching up his arms.

There is silence, then, and Koutarou notices only after a few moments that Kuroo is looking at him, like he’s waiting for something.

Koutarou doesn’t know what for.

Tanaka is there a moment later, throwing an arm over Kuroo’s shoulder with a bark of laughter. “Dude, you are so right! Remember when we were young and full of energy like that? Always getting into trouble,” he laughs, and somehow that makes Kuroo laugh, too.

Koutarou doesn’t understand why they’re laughing.

They set off to the temple, up a long set of stairs that looks a lot like the one at the Akaashi temple. The buildings here look similar, too, with their arched roofs and the small shop for charms and enchantments. The only glaring difference, really, is how there are a lot less people here. Koutarou only spots four customers, all of them giving Kuroo’s dragging wings odd looks.

A man in fancy white robes spots them when they step into the first building. Something about their little group must be obviously important or ominous, because the man quickly heads over to them, a small sheep shuffling along behind him. Its hooves click on the stone floor.

“I’m here to see Shimizu Kiyoko,” Keiji says before the man can say anything. “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

Koutarou thinks he’s heard that name before. Keiji mentioned her, something about his mother taking him to play with her when they were children. Koutarou doesn’t know how that works with rival families vying for the same important position, but then again, he has never really understood Keiji’s family.

That’s probably also because he’s just too stupid.

It’s clear that Keiji’s name means something here, because the man looks like he wants to balk but what he says is, “I’ll tell her that you’re here.”

They get a few more wary looks from the guy as he leads them further inside. Then they wait. It feels like going to the doctor, a little bit, except worse.

Eventually the same guy from before comes back, sheep in tow, along with a second guy who has a hedgehog sitting on his shoulder. Koutarou hasn’t been to a temple or around people dealing with magic for so long that he honestly forgot how _everyone_ has a familiar with them all the time. Like it’s a fun kind of zoo.

He wonders how Keiji feels, being the only person here without one.

They’re led further inside, and then outside into a yard, and then into a new building. Everything sort of looks the same and Koutarou quickly loses track of hallways and turns. He trusts Keiji and Tsukki to find their way back out if they need to make another quick escape.

The man with the hedgehog pulls open a paper door to a small room. There’s a low table inside and a woman standing behind it. She has glasses and dark hair that perfectly matches the giant raven sitting on the table, flapping its wings when it sees them. The woman’s expression is perfectly neutral. Maybe a little bit of a frown. Suddenly, Koutarou can see her getting along with Keiji’s family perfectly well.

“We’ll be right outside,” the man with the hedgehog hisses, like he expects them to _do_ something that will require his intervention.

Keiji politely inclines his head, with a blank expression to rival the woman’s. Koutarou and the others follow him when he steps inside. The door is pushed close behind them. Since this building is the traditional kind, Koutarou isn’t sure how much it will do to keep their conversation private. Maybe that’s on purpose.

“Shimizu-san,” Keiji says, his voice betraying nothing.

“Akaashi-san,” Shimizu mirrors and—this has to be her. Shimizu Kiyoko. She doesn’t look any friendlier than Keiji’s mother did, and Koutarou feels the little bit of hope he had left for Kuroo plummet.

She and Keiji look at each other in silence, for a long time, exchanging a silent conversation that Koutarou can’t even begin to guess at.

Eventually, it’s Keiji who breaks it by inclining his head towards the raven. “I see you’ve found a familiar,” he says.

The raven flaps its wings proudly at that, cawing and hopping on the table.

“Her name is Miu,” Shimizu says. Not a single muscle in her face so much as twitches. The raven caws again. “I heard you—”

She stops there, and Koutarou is glad for it. Keiji isn’t moving at all, neither his expression nor his stiff posture, but Koutarou knows better than to assume that he’s okay.

There’s a brief pause, then Shimizu asks, “Which one of them is it?”

This time, Keiji stiffens. Koutarou sees the pull at the bottom of his sleeves which means that Keiji is clutching at them, fingers restless as he’s losing his calm.

It makes sense. If Keiji’s family knew, then it’s only logical that she has heard about Keiji keeping a demon by now as well. Maybe that makes their already terrible odds even worse.

Then slowly, Keiji inclines his head Koutarou’s way.

That makes no sense. Koutarou thought this was about Kuroo. He sees that Kuroo is confused, too, and so is Tsukki. Tanaka is mostly just glaring like he’s thinking about threatening someone.

"I see,” Shimizu says, her sharp eyes scanning over Koutarou in a way that makes him feel like he is lacking.

He _is_ lacking.

He wonders if Keiji is embarrassed about him. Keiji could have had so much. He could have been important and respected and powerful. He could have had his familiar and could have learned so much magic from his family. If Koutarou hadn’t stepped into his life and messed it all up, maybe Keiji would know the spell to help Kuroo now. But instead here they are, Keiji with his useless boyfriend who couldn’t even speak up for him when he was fighting with his family.

That’s what this is about, right? Shimizu wants to know which one of them is so important that Keiji threw his whole life away for them, and now she’s looking at Koutarou in a borrowed jacket, with too little sleep and nothing to contribute to this situation. What a letdown.

That’s what Keiji’s mother must have seen, too, when she looked at him. Maybe that’s part of the reason they still can’t accept Keiji. Keiji should have married someone as smart and beautiful and important as him, and instead he showed up with— _this_.

A useless, fumbling idiot.

Shimizu seems to be drawing her own conclusions about him fairly quickly. She gives a small nod. “And the demon?”

Cautiously, Keiji points at Kuroo. Shimizu’s sharp eyes look him over just as quickly and coldly as they did Koutarou. Koutarou shivers when he thinks about what she’ll find.

Will she think badly of Kuroo, too? Will she refuse her help?

Koutarou doesn’t have any hope for it, really, but he knows that when she says No, they’re officially out of ideas.

Koutarou isn’t ready to say goodbye to Kuroo. He isn’t—he was afraid that Kuroo would leave them, but he never thought that it would be—

Forever.

“Show me,” Shimizu says.

Kuroo throws Keiji a questioning look and Keiji nods, his brows a little pinched. Kuroo slips off the feather necklace.

If Shimizu is at all bothered by Kuroo’s demonic appearance, she doesn’t show it. She hums quietly, stepping closer and scanning him. The raven hops a little bit closer as well, but stays up on the table.

Shimizu’s eyes settle back on Keiji after a while. “Why are you here? Why are you working with him?” she asks calmly.

Keiji launches into yet another explanation of their situation. He keeps it short. Doesn’t mention that Kuroo lives with them or how they found him as a cat. Tanaka throws in a few things, too, and together they talk about demons and murders and growing magic and the conspiracy they suspect. Kuroo watches them quietly. Tsukki is worrying his lower lip, like he wants to say something, but he stays silent, too.

“I suppose since you’re here, that means the Akaashis already turned you down,” Shimizu muses when they’re done explaining.

Keiji meets her eyes when he says, “Yes. They don’t think helping a demon would be wise.”

“More spirit than demon, if I heard you right,” Shimizu says and that’s—that’s more than they ever got from Keiji’s mother, certainly. Shimizu looks Kuroo over once more. “You don’t seem very violent to me,” she says.

Keiji straightens up a little. “Yes, he—”

“No,” Kuroo cuts in quickly, stepping back with a grimace. Koutarou’s chest goes very cold.

“Kuroo, shut _up_ , you fucking idiot,” Tsukki hisses sharply, coming up behind him to stop him from backing away any further. Kuroo’s wings flutter, and Tsukki lets out an “oof” when one hits him right in the chest.

Kuroo doesn’t even seem to notice. His wide, glowing eyes are on Shimizu, almost like he’s scared of her. “I’m losing control,” he says, his voice quiet and raspy. “I’ve already lost it before and I can feel it slipping now. I don’t know how—if I—”

Shimizu cocks her head to the side at the same time as her raven. “You’re awfully honest for someone who’s about to die,” she points out.

Tsukki shuffles around Kuroo’s wing and grabs his arm. “He’s being overdramatic,” he bites out. His face is pale. “It—wasn’t that bad.” His words are slow. His voice is scratchy. Forced.

Koutarou steps closer to them, instinctively, wanting desperately to—

He doesn’t know what he can do.

He stops.

Keiji’s and Kuroo’s and Tsukki’s wide eyes are on him, for a second, and then they’re back on Shimizu.

“He snapped out of it,” Keiji says, quiet and beseeching. “If we can head this off now, it should be fine.”

“We don’t _know_ that,” Kuroo hisses, and then yelps when Tsukki shoves his elbow into his side with another quiet “Shut up!”

Tanaka steps in front of them as if that could somehow hide the whole disaster. “Look, Miss, Shimizu-san,” he says, his expression more earnest than Koutarou has seen it before. “We’ve killed a lot of demons who got—powered up, like this, and the way Tetsurou is right now is nothing at all like that, so really—look at him, you can’t just let him _die_ —”

Koutarou flinches at the word, gritting his teeth against the stab of pain in his chest.

Shimizu blinks. “Oh, I have no intention of letting him die,” she says.

Koutarou’s heart stutters weakly.

“ _Eh?_ ” Tanaka squawks loudly. “You couldn’t tell us that sooner?”

Keiji’s eyes are wide with shock. “So you’ll—?”

Shimizu’s expression still betrays nothing. “I’ll help you. A seal to put the demonic magic into stasis. But I do have a condition.”

Tsukki swallows audibly. Keiji looks a little shaky when he asks, “What is it?”

“If it doesn’t work,” Shimizu’s eyes fall on Kuroo and narrow ever so slightly, “if you get worse in any way, you tell us and we’ll end you.”

Her voice isn’t raised. It’s not loud or powerful. It’s almost subdued, even.

Still her words hit Koutarou like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him. He’s shocked—doesn’t even know if it’s in a bad or a good way. She’s _helping_ , but her condition is _killing_ Kuroo if it doesn’t work, and who’s to say that it will work—but Kuroo is dying anyway, so this is—

Koutarou isn’t sure exactly _what_ he’s feeling, just that it’s a _lot_.

Something that has been squeezing cold and unforgiving around his heart until now finally eases off and allows him to breathe again. His eyes are burning. Keiji is blinking rapidly a few times, too. Tsukki is ducking his head down, hiding behind his glasses, fingers shaking on Kuroo’s arm.

Kuroo looks stunned.

Stunned and a little bit unhappy. He blinks and then that’s gone, replaced by focus and determination. “I accept your terms,” he says, and Shimizu nods.

“I thought you would,” she says. She steps back and a mysterious, small smile builds on her face. “You’re being foolishly honest. You don’t want to hurt anyone. If I don’t have to worry about that, there’s no reason not to help you.”

“You—” Keiji chokes out, scratchy, then clears his throat. His eyes are glossy, but no tears are falling. “ _Thank you_.”

Shimizu directs her smile his way. Her raven flutters up onto her shoulder, looking even larger in that position. It caws. “There is no need to thank me, Keiji-kun,” she says, easily slipping into something more familiar that even Koutarou notices.

Keiji smiles back at her, shaky but genuine.

“Come on,” she says then. “We have a lot to do.”

* * *

“Man, that Kiyoko-san was really something,” Tanaka sighs dreamily once they’re back in the car.

Kei is almost impressed at how quickly Tanaka can think about such trivial matters, when they just got the much more important bit of information that _Kuroo is not actively dying anymore_. Call him unnecessarily pragmatic, but Kei thinks that’s actually more deserving of attention than Shimizu Kiyoko’s looks—not that he isn’t very much grateful and impressed by the woman. It didn’t even take her an hour to sway the rest of her family and get Kuroo fixed up.

Kei didn’t understand much of what actually happened. It didn’t help that as outsiders they weren’t actually allowed to be present. But the gist is—

Kuroo’s demonic magic is no longer growing. It should stay that way so long as he refrains from using it. If anything goes wrong, they should tell the Shimizus immediately and either they’ll try to slap another seal on it or they’ll kill Kuroo for becoming too dangerous. But for now, as long as nothing else goes wrong—

Kuroo is going to live.

It’s more than Kei has dared to hope for in the last few hours.

He can’t stop looking at Kuroo now, constantly glancing into the rearview mirror. It’s not a very _useful_ thing to do, because Kuroo is unlikely to go anywhere, being squeezed in between Akaashi and Bokuto as he is, and if anything was wrong with his magic again then Kei wouldn’t be able to see it, but—Kei can’t help himself.

It still feels surreal that the danger is over now. Kei’s gut is bubbling with nervous anticipation, thoughts circling over and over again. Can it really be over already? Was it really so easy to fix? What if they missed something? What if something is still wrong and any moment now it will all come crashing down around them?

But the most dangerous thing for now seems to be Tanaka’s driving style.

There are other issues ahead, like what is actually wrong with Kuroo in the first place and who is behind all this, but that’s not something Kei needs to fix. That will be left to people who actually know what they’re doing, like Tanaka and Sawamura and Sugawara, and Hinata and his friends, and _Kozume Kenma_.

Maybe that is the real reason for the constant, uncomfortable squirming in Kei’s stomach. He is under no illusions that Kuroo will want to stay with them now that his precious Kenma is back.

All this time, they’ve been anxiously anticipating this day, waiting for it and then dreading it and then hoping it wouldn’t come, but now it’s here. Kuroo is going to leave. He’s going to take all of this magical nonsense with him and their lives will go back to normal. Just like that. It will all be over.

Kei glances into the rearview mirror again, allowing his eyes to skim over Kuroo.

His throat feels tight and scratchy. Maybe he’s getting sick. It wouldn’t surprise him if he caught a cold in that terrible forest.

“Should I drive you guys home?” Tanaka asks, startling Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi in the back row who have all looked somewhat close to falling asleep.

“Huh?” Bokuto mumbles, clueless. Kei’s heart gives a painful lurch in his chest.

“To your place,” Tanaka clarifies. “Or do you want to come over first? Like, debrief, I don’t know?”

Akaashi blinks a few times, reaching a state of being awake and understanding. His expression flattens then, growing somber and hollow.

They’re not needed anymore. They can go now. Kei has seen it coming from the start.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, still not understanding—stupid. Always so stupid. Always so happy and trusting that he probably can’t even imagine being dropped now that the danger is over. He’s leaning forward, glancing past Kuroo at his boyfriend.

Akaashi avoids his eyes.

It’s Kuroo who gives Bokuto a slightly uncomfortable look instead, before Akaashi can gather himself, and mutters, “I’m gonna stick with Kenma. But you guys should head home. Get some sleep.”

Bokuto looks at him, blinking without understanding.

Still not.

One moment passes and then another.

“Oh,” he mutters then, his shoulders slumping visibly.

Kei wants to think it’s ridiculous—they knew this was coming. They _all_ did, and at least Kei mentally prepared himself—but seeing Bokuto lose his spirit again, right after he was beginning to cheer up a bit, just makes Kei feel like crying. It’s awful.

“Could you take us with you, please?” Akaashi asks after a while. “There are some things I would like to talk to Kozume-san about.”

“Sure thing,” Tanaka answers easily.

Kei silently accepts that Akaashi has bought them a few more minutes and that he is just along for the ride. He looks into the rearview mirror again.

Kuroo looks tired. It’s no wonder.

Kei’s heart aches when he thinks that Kuroo won’t be there to curl up between them and sleep. And then it almost cracks when reason catches up to him and he remembers that _he_ won’t be in Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s bed, either.

He’ll go back to his own room and be all by himself.

The drive is mostly silent.

Kuroo starts squirming in his seat just before Tanaka brings the car to a stop. By the time Kei has stood up from his seat, Kuroo has already crawled halfway over Bokuto’s lap to run up to the door to Sawamura’s shop, arms squeezing tightly around Kozume while Sawamura and Sugawara have settled for wrapping their arms around both of them.

They mean so much more to Kuroo than Kei or Bokuto or Akaashi do. It’s ridiculous and childish to feel jealous of the affection Kuroo shows them. But no matter what, Kei can’t swallow the bitter taste at the back of his throat.

“Come on,” Akaashi says to him, startling Kei despite how soft his voice is.

Kei thought that Akaashi and Bokuto would have gone ahead already, but they seem to be waiting for him. It has to be because they’re slow and tired after the last two days.

They all drag themselves into the house. Kei tries not to pay too much attention to how Kuroo is hanging all over Kozume, but it’s hard to ignore. It feels like hours until Akaashi finally manages to catch Kozume’s attention to talk about whatever he wants to talk about. It sounds to Kei like he’s relaying all the information Shimizu gave them, which Kei still doesn’t entirely understand.

Kei is just sitting next to Bokuto on the couch, feeling useless again and really hoping that he’ll manage to sneak in a talk with Kuroo at some point without everyone listening in. Just a few words, before he’ll possibly never see Kuroo again.

Maybe, if they’re really lucky, Kuroo will come out of this alright and still be interested enough in that foursome to reach out to them again. But Kei has his doubts about that, now that Sawamura and Sugawara are an option for Kuroo once more. An option that Kuroo quite obviously prefers, given that he’s hanging all over those two rather than Bokuto or Akaashi or Kei.

At least Kuroo does come over to the couch eventually, plopping himself down next to Bokuto and leaning against his side. Kei is both surprised and a little bit happy that Kuroo came at all, and he hates it.

He calculates his chances of catching Kuroo all alone at some point and realizes that they’re low. He’ll just have to settle for Bokuto being here, which is not the worst thing that could happen. With how defeated and tired Bokuto looks, Kei isn’t sure if Bokuto is even going to listen in.

Kuroo stays silent as he sits with them, so Kei has no other choice but to take a deep breath and gather himself.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asks Kuroo, very quietly.

Kuroo leans forward a little bit, just enough to look past Bokuto, at Kei. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t seem real, and Kei isn’t sure how much of that is because of his teeth looking all small and human due to the enchanted necklace. “Sure,” Kuroo says. “Shimizu’s spell should hold up for like, pretty much forever, so long as I don’t use my magic.”

Kei frowns and makes no effort to hide it. “That’s nice. But I’m talking about how you were pretty much ready to die out there.”

Kuroo takes a sudden, keen interest in looking at Bokuto’s shoes. “Look, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “I got a little stressed with the whole _dying_ thing, but it’s okay now.”

Kei raises his brows, disbelieving. “If you say so.”

There’s an unhappy twist to Kuroo’s mouth. Just enough discontent to have him shooting a scowl Kei’s way. “I’m _fine_ ,” he repeats stubbornly. His hands have curled into the couch cushion, tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white. “Kenma is going to figure this all out. He’ll fix it.”

Right. Because things aren’t actually fixed yet.

All they managed, really, was to slap a band-aid on Kuroo’s escalating magic to keep it from growing and killing him. If it doesn’t hold up, Kuroo is going to go feral and then die. They really haven’t _fixed_ anything, they just paused the problem temporarily.

“He better,” Kei grumbles, his chest aching with something he refuses to name. Frustration and something worse sit tight around his throat, strangling him. “After all, he’s the one who got you into this mess.”

Kei regrets it as soon as the words are out, when Kuroo’s eyes widen with shock and then narrow into slits. “Don’t you dare blame Kenma for this,” Kuroo hisses, quiet but angry enough to bare his blunt teeth.

Kei should apologize and back down. He really should.

But he still can’t fathom losing Kuroo, and he won’t even see him again now that Kenma is back, and it’s all too much after everything else that has already happened.

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it _his_ bond with you that got you infected with this shit in the first place?” Kei asks quietly, watching Kuroo flinch as the carefully crafted jab hits its target.

Still, Kuroo catches himself quickly, bristling and leaning forward. “Kenma was—”

“How _do_ we know that that’s where Kuroo got sick?” Bokuto murmurs quietly, so utterly unexpected that Kei forgets every other mean thing he was going to say. Bokuto raises his head just a little, blinking at them both with dull eyes that seem to have just the smallest spark of life hidden in them.

Kei tries to find his composure again. He can’t start falling apart now. They still need to say goodbye to Kuroo and it’s going to be a terrible mess already.

“Didn’t you listen?” he snaps, barely remembering to keep himself quiet. “He was off all day so it must have happened before we reached the In-Between. The bond thing was the only other time it _could_ have happened.”

Bokuto cocks his head to the side, not understanding if his clueless expression is anything to go by. “That coven guy came by really late,” he mutters, non-sequitur.

“They told us about that, too,” Kei growls. His previous anger at Kuroo is rapidly redirecting himself at Bokuto, who apparently came out of his slump just to ask stupid questions that were _already answered_. Even Kei understands this part. “Someone informs the Coven only after something is wrong already. That’s why Kozume thinks someone is pulling strings in the back. That’s how they showed up at our place.”

Bokuto’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. Maybe he’s trying to think, for once in his life. “Yeah,” he murmurs slowly. “But it was _late_. It was, like—what? Five hours after Kuroo started panicking? Six?”

Heavens help him, Kei is going to slap him one of these days. They’ve _been over this_. “They—”

“Tsukki,” Kuroo says, quiet and unexpectedly soft.

Kei snaps his mouth shut. Confused.

Bokuto squirms between them, his unsure gaze darting between Kuroo and Kei. “It was really late,” he repeats, a third time, and Kei wants to fucking strangle him—“so if Kuroo was already sick with too much magic then, wouldn’t they have noticed?”

That’s—

Not completely stupid, actually.

Kei stares at him.

Bokuto squirms more, his brows furrowing unhappily. “Why did they let him go then?” he asks. “That dog guy, he didn’t smell Kuroo.”

Kei’s mouth is very dry. His heart is beating in his chest, loudly, but not loud enough to drown out what Bokuto is saying. Kei’s mind feels like a rusty, old machine that’s starting to work for the first time in a century, slow and painful, as he fully catches up to Bokuto’s train of thought.

“What if Kuroo wasn’t sick when they showed up?” Bokuto wonders out lout, stating the exact thing that Kei is just now putting together. “What if something _they_ did made him sick?”

“That device,” Kei blurts out, without thinking. It feels like something is clicking into place. “The one he used to make Kuroo turn into a demon.”

Bokuto gives him a look, wide-eyed and thoughtful and just a little bit happy. Kuroo is staring at them both.

It’s eerily silent with them just watching him. Kei begins to squirm uncomfortably. And then he realizes that the quiet is so devastating because _no one else_ in the room is talking, either. Kei looks around, and is shocked to find them all looking at _him_.

“What device?” Sugawara asks, his brows pinched in a frown that’s not angry but—something. “The Coven should use a spell to reveal demons. Or incense and wards at most.”

Kei shakes his head, minutely. “No. He had this small metal stick. He pressed a button on it and then Kuroo’s bell shattered and he turned. And when he turned it off, Kuroo turned back.”

Sawamura’s face has pulled into a grim scowl. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” he mutters.

Kei feels a bit short of breath. It’s like they’re on the verge of something important.

“Maybe it’s new?” Akaashi asks, and promptly Kozume shakes his head.

“I try to stay informed on how the Coven searches for demons. I haven’t heard of it, either,” he murmurs, and his quiet voice seems to captivate everyone in the room without effort. His sharp, cat-like eyes fall to Kuroo. “What was it like?”

Kuroo squirms a little bit. It’s visible mostly in the fluttering of his wings. “Uncomfortable. It felt like it was pulling my demon magic out of me and pushing everything else aside. Kinda painful. I couldn’t shift back even though I tried.”

“That’s weird,” Sugawara mutters.

“Really fucking weird,” Sawamura adds on.

“Shouldn’t the Coven have told us if they had something like that? We were hunting demons for them, too,” Tanaka throws in.

It’s all beginning to look very suspicious, really.

“Did you get a good look at it?” Sawamura asks Kuroo, and Kuroo shakes his head.

Kei doesn’t really want to become the focus of everyone’s attention again, but—well. This is very important.

“I saw it,” he speaks up. This time, he’s prepared for everyone to stare at him and that makes it a little bit easier to keep talking. “About the size of a finger. One button in the middle. It was made of metal, I think. And there was something engraved in it. Like a ‘K’ in a circle?”

“Why would you engrave something into such a simple device?” Sugawara asks.

“Maybe it’s a sigil,” Sawamura answers, though it feels more like a thought that they’re finishing for one another. “Or a brand of an outside contractor.”

Kei sees Kozume and Akaashi stiffen, wide-eyed and attentive, and he knows right then that they’re thinking the same thing as him.

A demon detecting device from an outside source that none of them can pin down. Maybe _that_ was the thing that got Kuroo—sick, for a lack of a better word. Maybe this device is from the same party who’s behind _all of this_. Or if it’s a sigil, that would be a clue as to how it works, right?

Either way, if they can get their hands on it, this could be a lead.

Well. If Kozume and his merry band of magicians get their hands on it. Kei won’t be a part of that mess, after all.

Sugawara hands Kei a piece of paper and a pen. “Could you draw it for me?”

“Uh. Sure,” Kei mutters awkwardly. It’s not hard. Just a circle, with K in it that’s large enough to touch the edges. Easy, aside from the fact that Kei’s circle ends up a bit more of an egg shape, maybe.

“Thank you,” Sugawara says warmly, as if Kei just did something particular great. “Even if we can’t get anywhere with the Coven, we can still go symbol crawling and maybe figure something out with this. I feel like I’ve seen this somewhere before. Do you still remember the name of the Coven mage who had this?”

Akaashi nods. “Oikawa Tooru.”

Sawamura groans and rolls his eyes, which Kei takes to mean that he knows the guy.

“We gotta talk to him,” Tanaka crows excitedly. “Get our hands on that thing. Bust this all wide open.”

Kozume holds up one hand and somehow, that’s enough to silence everyone. “You shouldn’t go,” he says quietly. “You’ll be in trouble if the Coven finds out that you’re helping us. And demons.”

Kuroo is the only one who accepts those words with a vigorous nod. “Yeah. You guys have helped us enough already.”

Sugawara shoots him a sharp frown. “Tetsurou, you can’t expect us to just sit by and watch when your life is in danger.”

Kuroo shrugs and looks away. “It’s saved for now.”

“That’s not good enough!” Sawamura argues, looking a bit distressed.

“You can drive us,” Kozume allows, causing Sawamura and Tanaka to squawk in protest. But Kozume is not impressed. “I’m taking Akaashi. You were able to make him back down and leave Kuroo alone last time, right?”

Akaashi flounders. “Uh. Kind of. But I bluffed my way through it and he’ll probably hate me now. I more or less blackmailed him into letting Kuroo go.”

Kozume’s face does something very strange and eerie right then. His eyes get all bright with a wild spark, and his lips curl into a sharp grin. “Oh no, that’s perfect,” he hums, low and dangerous. “He allowed a dangerous demon to go free. He’s partly responsible for anything that Kuroo does now. He’ll have to help us if he doesn’t want to lose his job.”

“Are you—planning to blackmail him with being blackmailed by us before?” Kuroo asks hesitantly, looking—amused, honestly, intrigued and a little bit delighted. This creepy, terrifyingly smart and ruthless side to Kozume doesn’t seem to be anything new to him, and Kei supposes that makes sense. But it _is_ new to Kei, and suddenly he's losing every last bit of hope that they could ever wrangle Kuroo away from this man.

“I’m not taking you,” Kozume says then, and Kuroo deflates visibly.

“But—”

“He could just take you in right there. I won’t risk it,” Kozume says firmly.

Kuroo looks like he’s going to argue, for a long moment. But then he frowns and ducks his head in a small nod. “Fine. Be careful.”

Kozume nods. He gets up from the couch and throws Sawamura an expectant look, as if, somehow, the man had been dawdling around for hours. “Let’s go then.”

Kei tries to sneak another surreptitious glance at Kuroo. Kuroo looks a little bit sad that Kozume is going to leave without him, but honestly not nearly as bad as Kei feared.

It's not as if Kei is overly concerned about how Kuroo might feel or anything. It’s just. He’s not keen on running headfirst into the next emotional breakdown. He’s done with those for today. So he was just a little worried, maybe—just a tiny little bit—that Kuroo would take it badly when his friend, who just disappeared for a month without word, is leaving him behind _again_.

But it’s cool, Kuroo is fine, Kei isn’t worried, it’s all good.

There’s a bit of general chaos as everyone gets up to either talk to Oikawa or wish those going good luck. Kei hangs back, mostly. He spots Kuroo hanging back, too, and that is surprising. But it’s an opportunity Kei didn’t think he would get.

Cautiously, he steps closer to Kuroo. Kuroo doesn’t look his way, so Kei finds his gaze wandering upwards a little bit—and then mentally chides himself. He should get used to not being able to read Kuroo’s mood from his cat ears already. They’re _gone_. Expecting to see them at his point is just dumb.

“Are you ever going to come back to us?” Kei asks, quiet and tired and immediately wanting to bite his tongue off for being so blunt about it. The last thing he should do is scare Kuroo away by getting too needy.

_Clingy_ , Kuroo said.

Kuroo’s eyes widen, predictably, with something Kei can only assume is shock. He fidgets ever so slightly, just one small, unnerved movement. Kei thinks that if his ears were still normal, they’d be folding back now—not that they are, so it’s a moot point, really, and Kei should stop with this already.

“You offered to rock our world or something,” Kei tacks on, far too late, but he still hopes to play it off as being only half-interested. Maybe he can at least mitigate the damage he did. What he and Kuroo had was always casual, nothing more—everything more was only Kei’s wishful thinking and stupidity—but it was still _fun_. So who’s to say that Kuroo _won’t_ drop by their place again for some casual fooling around.

Kuroo’s jaw works, just for a short moment, before it all gets swallowed by an easy, lazy grin. “I did, didn’t I?” he asks, his voice playful and betraying nothing. But he can’t entirely fool Kei. There is something sharp and calculated in Kuroo’s eyes, so Kei has no doubt that he’s playing some sort of angle here, just like Kei is.

Kei can only hope that it’s the same. Or maybe at least not one where Kuroo plans on disappearing from their lives forever, starting now.

“You don’t have to,” Kei mutters, because otherwise the words feel stuck in his throat, choking him. “You don’t owe us anything for staying. But if you want to—” he breathes, carefully schools his face into nonchalance, then curls his lip in a perfectly lackadaisical smirk— “I wouldn’t mind playing with you again.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle as he huffs out a quiet laugh. The smile curling over his lips seems more genuine to Kei than anything before did. “Yeah, that was fun,” he hums. Kei almost dares to be hopeful, but then a shadow draws over Kuroo’s eyes. “Let’s see about that later, yeah?”

That’s not a yes. And not a no.

Kei feels high-strung, caught on the precipice of something important and just about to fall. It’s nerve-wracking and unbearable, and he’s instantly trying to think of something that will help him, make Kuroo agree—

Kuroo always went along happily with Kei’s plans when Kei was just pushing a little, demanding it, melting so wonderfully under every little bit of attention—

Maybe if Kei can just remind him of how nice it was, how much fun, how it doesn’t have to be serious at all, nothing more than Kuroo wants to give—

Kei takes another step forward, leaning more into Kuroo’s space. “What, are you getting shy on me?” he asks, not quite as mocking about it as he would usually be, more teasing instead. They’re not alone, after all, and Kei can’t afford to spook Kuroo.

Kuroo’s smile gets a little wider, and Kei can’t tell for sure if it’s genuine or strained. “Me? Shy? Tsukki, do you even know me?”

“I think I know what you like pretty well,” Kei hums, his voice a bit lower now.

Kuroo is looking at him and even though he’s smiling, he seems unreadable to Kei. It’s making Kei feel horribly out of his depth. Like he’s running around in complete darkness, with no clue which direction is the right one.

He hesitates, shortly, then leans in further. For just a moment, Kuroo doesn’t move.

Kei gets closer, one hand rising up to hold Kuroo’s face when they kiss.

Their lips brush, a short spark of warmth, and then Kuroo is ducking away. Kei wishes he could say that it’s subtle or graceful, but it’s not. Kuroo’s eyes are wide, his mouth pressed into a harsh, white line as he scrambles back with so much speed that he gets caught on his own wings and stumbles.

Something in Kei’s chest twinges, horribly, painfully, as it breaks.

“Ouch. Awkward,” someone murmurs into the silence, not quite low enough for Kei not to hear. It might be Tanaka, but Kei can’t place the voice right now with the sudden rush of static in his ears.

He feels numb. And hot, and cold. All of it at once. Sick, like he’s going to throw up.

He takes a step back and has to focus not to stumble, too, because his feet don’t feel like a part of him anymore. Nothing does.

“You should go help Kenma and Akaashi,” Kuroo says, his tone a bad imitation of calm, as if he’s not clearly telling Kei to _get lost_. “You’re the only one who saw the device. They could use your help.”

“Sure,” Kei hears himself say. His eyes are burning. Kuroo is getting a little bit blurry, swimming—

But Kei isn’t going to cry. He won’t.

Why would he, even?

Just because the guy he hooked up with doesn’t want to be kissed by him.

Ridiculous.

Stupid.

Foolish.

Kei should know better by now. He should know that no one ever wants him.

Kuroo doesn’t want _any_ of them. It’s not even about Kei.

That’s okay. Kei doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all.

He turns and goes to grab his coat, so he can leave with Akaashi and Kozume. He gets dressed and follows them outside, replying to them on autopilot, thoughts a steady stream of _don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry_.

And if he tears up from the cold outside just a little bit, that can’t be helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee, what a nice thing that Kuroo is no longer dying! Now we can all calm down and be happy and go home. Hurray! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	21. Worst Weekend Ever Now Almost Officially Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this update took forever :')  
> I had to do a lot of editing on this chapter until I liked it, and I also had very little time to actually write, between work, weekend seminars, and other stuff. So sorry about that!
> 
> I hope you all made it through the past two months more or less alright and that you enjoy this chapter! :)

The apartment complex is simple, but nice. Flowers on most balconies. Clean, white walls. It’s one of the newer buildings, with enough windows to bathe everything in warm, natural sunlight.

Keiji has no idea how Kozume got this address so fast, but here they are. Right in front of Oikawa’s apartment.

They’ve talked about this a lot in the car. Tanaka informed them that he, Sawamura, and Sugawara have dealt with Oikawa before. The man is definitely a higher mage of the Coven.

And after thinking it over for a while, especially with Kozume’s input, Keiji is actually reasonably sure—despite the very suspicious timing of Oikawa showing up at their apartment and despite their theory that it was Oikawa’s device that caused Kuroo’s magic to go havoc—despite all of that, Keiji doesn’t think that Oikawa is actually at fault. In fact, Keiji thinks that Oikawa doesn’t know about the role he played in this at all.

After all, it was Oikawa who told them that he’d get in trouble if he released Kuroo and Kuroo ended up hurting someone. Oikawa would get so much backlash from the Coven in that case. The consequences of releasing a dangerous demon definitely outweigh whatever punishment Oikawa would get for firing that stray spell at Koutarou. That means, if Oikawa had known back then that Kuroo would lose control, he likely would have taken Kuroo in despite their protests. Kuroo going feral while in custody would have proven him right easily enough.

So most likely, Oikawa didn’t see this turn of events coming. He had no idea that Kuroo would really lose control. Thus—assuming they’re right about their theory and Oikawa caused Kuroo’s magic to grow—Oikawa has no idea that he’s responsible for this mess.

He’s just a pawn. A pawn with a bad opinion about demons and a questionable personality, surely, but nevertheless a pawn.

A pawn with very valuable clues.

And if Kozume is right with his assumption that Oikawa will _hate_ being someone else’s pawn—

Maybe he’ll be willing to help them find out who’s behind all of this. Find out who has been playing him. Oikawa seems like the type of person who wants to get back at someone for using him. At least Kozume and Keiji think so, and Tanaka agrees.

So maybe, if they’re right and luck is on their side—maybe Keiji can convince Oikawa to help them. Maybe in this way, Keiji can still help Kuroo, even though from here on out—

Kuroo won’t be with them anymore. Because Kuroo will stay with Kozume, of course, and that is—

That’s something Keiji doesn’t really like to think about, so for now he does his best to block it out.

Kozume himself is another mystery entirely. Keiji just can’t get a read on him. The man has been very quiet so far, apart from a few words during their planning in the car. As far as Keiji can tell, Kozume seems terrifyingly smart. And ruthless. Kozume wasn’t bothered at all by the story of how they blackmailed Oikawa. He even looked slightly amused.

To be honest, Keiji didn’t initially expect Kozume to be so cunning. Now that it is getting revealed behind that calm, withdrawn exterior, Keiji isn’t sure what to make of it. Doesn’t know if they can actually trust Kozume or not.

But Kozume seems to care for Kuroo a great deal. That, Keiji can say with relative certainty. He’s reasonably sure that Kozume is distressed by what’s happening to Kuroo. Kozume was trying his best to keep Kuroo away from all this. He had a spell and emergency plan prepared in case Kuroo showed up and needed help. He put spells on Kuroo even though it meant overexerting himself and passing out. And now he is coming along with them to face a Coven mage, just to make absolutely sure that they can help Kuroo.

Kozume cares.

It’s a bitter-sweet thought. It means that Kuroo will be well-taken care of. And that, in turn, means that Kuroo will be too happy to ever come back to them.

But that’s not the priority right now. Keiji doesn’t have time to dwell on such sad things. He should be focused on ensuring a way to help Kuroo, just like Kozume is. And that means convincing Oikawa to work with them, so they can get to the bottom of what happened to Kuroo in the first place. That’s the only thing that matters right now. And after that, they’ll—

Keiji takes one deep breath to steady himself.

Steels his nerves.

Then he knocks on the door to Oikawa’s apartment, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Go away, Iwa-chan! I don’t want to talk!” a somewhat familiar voice whines loudly from inside.

Well. That is not the welcome Keiji expected. He sends a slightly helpless look to Tsukishima and Kozume. When they both motion for him to knock again, he does.

“Ugh,” comes the loud complaint after a while. “Fine, but I’m only letting you in so you can agree with me that those stupid demon fuckers are the absolute _worst_ —”

The door is pulled open. Oikawa blinks at them, dumbly. He’s wearing short shorts and a rumpled, baggy shirt. Glasses sit on his nose, his hair disheveled. A blanket is draped over his shoulders, printed with small UFOs, and he’s holding a mostly empty pint of ice cream in his hand.

Keiji finds that he can do nothing but stare at Oikawa in silent shock. The way Oikawa looks right now—it’s so different from the last time they saw each other just two days ago. It’s surprisingly—human. This man looks nothing at all like the sharp-tongued, cold-hearted Coven mage Keiji prepared himself to meet.

“Hello.” Tsukishima leans forward with a deadly smile before Keiji can do anything to stop him. “It’s us again. The stupid demon fuckers.”

Almost comically fast, Oikawa’s expression scrunches up into a very sour frown. “What the hell do you want here?”

“We need your help,” Keiji is quick to answer, before Tsukishima can say anything else to provoke. There’s really no need to dash their chances before they can even explain the situation.

After failing with his family, Keiji _has_ to make this work.

“Help with your demon,” Oikawa states more than he asks.

“With our part-demon,” Keiji says without wavering. Though on the inside, despair is beginning to claw at him.

This is the same point that his mother refused to accept and already Keiji is worried that this will go down much the same way. But they have to _try. He_ has to try, and at least facing Oikawa in his UFO blanket is a lot easier than facing his mother was.

Would she ever speak to him again, if he asked? Hurriedly, Keiji pushes away that thought.

Oikawa’s brows sink down further as he bares his teeth in a sneer. “We all got suspended because of your stupid bullshit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Keiji replies calmly. He does actually feel a little bit bad. He can’t imagine that it went over well with the Coven that Oikawa let a part demon go. There must have been a lot of backlash. Maybe even complaints from Keiji’s family after they came to the temple.

Actually, Keiji is _very_ sure that his family filed a complaint. It’s a small miracle that no one has come yet to take Kuroo in, after the show they put on. Maybe Shimizu had a hand in that. Her family has some influence as well, after all.

Or maybe Keiji’s family just no longer cares what Kuroo might do to him.

He swallows. Silence stretches out between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Eventually, Tsukishima asks, “Are you going to let us in?”

Oikawa glares at them for a moment longer, then clicks his teeth. “Fine, come in. But only because I want to hear how you managed to fuck this up _worse_.”

A small sigh of relief escapes Keiji. That’s at least one small success so far.

They all step into the apartment and get settled on very nice, trendy couches. Looking around the spotless room, Keiji can’t help but think that working for the Coven has to pay well. But it doesn’t seem like Oikawa is home a lot when he’s not currently suspended.

There also aren’t any signs of a familiar around. That’s rather unusual for someone doing such important jobs for the Coven. Did Oikawa lose his? Maybe to a demon, just like Keiji’s father?

Or maybe Keiji is just reading too much into things. He’s tired and nervous and a part of him is still fearing for Kuroo’s life. He has to be getting paranoid. Most likely, Oikawa just hasn’t found a familiar that matched him yet. Case closed. Keiji should think about more important matters. Like how he will handle this conversation.

He shares a look with Kozume. They talked about this in the car. Keiji doesn’t enjoy that he’s playing such a big part, especially so soon after botching things with his family. But it’s the best they could come up with. Tsukishima doesn’t know enough about magical rules and laws, and Kozume is trying to stay out of it so that Oikawa won’t assume that he’s the one who summoned Kuroo.

“So who is this?” Oikawa asks predictably, grimly nodding towards Kozume.

Keiji steels himself. They have a plan, he reminds himself. Tsukishima and Kozume and he _planned_ for this, and he can work with plans. This is not like facing his mother. He can do this.

“A friend of ours,” he replies smoothly and with barely a pause. And then, before Oikawa can think about it too much, “You got in trouble for allowing Kuroo to walk free?”

Oikawa purses his lips unhappily before they draw into a bitter smile. “Yeah. Apparently my bosses didn’t like it much when we released a demon to a disgraced Akaashi in the middle of a murder spree.”

“That’s terrible,” Keiji says curtly. He hopes it sounds honest. With a small breath, he tries to mentally prepare himself for the next part. “So I assume they’d be even unhappier if the demon you released started killing people?”

In a fraction of a second, Oikawa’s eyes get very cold and hard. “What are you implying?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous. It sends a shiver down Keiji’s spine. Somehow, Oikawa didn’t sound this deadly and frightening even when he was threatening Kuroo’s life.

Keiji is doing a terrible thing, he knows. They blackmailed Oikawa before and got him in trouble and now they’ll drag him even deeper into this mess, against his will.

But it’s to help Kuroo. To make sure that Kuroo stays _alive_. So far, they were only able to pause the issue. There’s no telling how long Shimizu’s spell will hold, no cure in sight, no clue to who is behind everything. Oikawa is their best and only lead. They don’t have a choice.

At least, that’s what Keiji tries to tell himself. He makes a conscious effort not to squirm. They can’t stake Kuroo’s life on the hope of Oikawa being nice enough to help on his own. He has to do this.

“You said you’d be in trouble if you let a demon go and then that demon goes on a rampage,” he says, much calmer than he feels. His voice is cold, devoid of all emotion. “So we thought you’d appreciate the chance to help us stop that from happening.”

Oikawa is completely still for a moment longer. His eyes seem to burn holes right into Keiji, making it harder and harder not to squirm.

Then Oikawa falls back against the backrest of his fancy couch with a mirthless laugh. “What, so you’re telling me your little pet demon turned out to be a monster after all?” Sharp, dangerous eyes bore into Keiji. “I told you.”

Keiji presses his palms flat to his thighs to keep from fidgeting.

Breathe. Think. Act. No room for mistakes.

“Of the demons you found and captured recently,” he asks, calm and matter-of-fact, “how many went feral?”

Oikawa straightens himself up a little bit. Stares at him, just a bit confused now but no less intense. “Every one,” he answers haltingly, cautious as he seems to want to figure out what their angle is.

Keiji raises his brows. A practiced expression. “Seems like a very strange coincidence, doesn’t it?”

A momentary twitch of Oikawa’s eyes, before his face smooths out again.

If he’s smart enough, he’ll figure out on his own what Keiji is implying. Keiji isn’t worried about that as much as he is worried about Oikawa’s character—Will it bother Oikawa to realize that he played a part in setting up innocent beings as murderers? Or will he think they deserved it for being demons?

Eventually, Oikawa’s gaze finds his, sharp and wary. “What are you trying to say here?” he asks, looking like he already knows but wants to hear it from Keiji himself.

Keiji meets that searching gaze head-on. “I just find it very strange,” he says slowly, so that Oikawa will have time to evaluate each of his words and see the truth in them, “that Kuroo was living with us for a month without any sign of violence. And then right after you showed up, he starts losing control of his magic and his mind.”

Oikawa stares at him. Not a single muscle twitches to give away his thoughts.

“That device you had to reveal him as a demon,” Tsukishima adds in. “It’s new, right?”

Another clue. Another puzzle piece.

And Oikawa is putting them together, forming the same incomplete picture that they all have. Keiji can see it clearly, from the way Oikawa’s jaw works ever so slightly.

Oikawa is thinking. Maybe, if they’re lucky, considering them.

“You’re saying your little friend is about to kill people,” Oikawa drawls then—apparently more concerned with that than with their rather blunt implication that he’s part of a large conspiracy.

Keiji swallows once against the sudden burn of frustration in his eyes. “It’s handled,” he says coldly. “Kuroo won’t harm anyone. But we _do_ want to know what happened to him.”

Oikawa inclines his head to the side, crossing his legs. “You think it was me,” he ponders out loud. “My demon detector.”

“Yes, we do,” Keiji replies, as boldly as he dares. More confirmation isn’t needed, he knows. Oikawa has already inferred what he wanted to say.

Oikawa looks at them all for a moment longer. It would be a relief if Keiji could read him in any way at all, but once again there is nothing.

“You don’t like being used as a tool in someone else’s plan,” Kozume mutters then, his voice low and quiet. Still, he sounds so certain that Keiji could very well believe he’s reading Oikawa’s mind. All eyes fall to him and Kozume shifts ever so lightly. But he stares at Oikawa with his cat-like eyes, unwavering. “Don’t you want to find out who’s been pulling your strings?”

Only Keiji’s heartbeat is audible in the ensuing silence.

It seems to stretch on forever.

Keiji’s nerves are strung tight, like a rubber band about to snap. His fingers dig painfully into his thighs as he tries to keep himself from fiddling, from revealing his nervousness.

Still more silence.

Then Oikawa sighs. Slumps into his fancy couch a little bit. “You think someone is using us,” he mutters quietly. “Having us go around to spot demons and turn them into monsters. Make them attack and kill innocent people. To what end?”

Keiji draws in a deep breath. His throat is tight.

Kozume meets Oikawa’s eyes without flinching. “We don’t know yet. After a long list of dead demons, you’re our best lead so far.”

Oikawa sighs again, more dramatically. He pushes up his glasses and rubs his fingers over his eyes. His next glare at them, glasses still slightly askew, seems almost _tired_. “We got those demon detectors a few weeks ago. In response to the first killings,” he says then.

Keiji’s heart stutters in his chest, feebly, at the realization that Oikawa is actually _answering_ them. At least for now, he’s going along with their theory. Keiji doesn’t dare to hope, hardly even dares to breathe anymore—

“There were even more feral demons after that,” Oikawa sighs. “We figured that was a natural progression of their recent aggressive streak, nothing related to us. But I _have_ heard of alarms about demons being called in before anyone got hurt. I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Yes,” Kozume answers. If he’s just as eager as Keiji to make this work, just a thrumming mess of nerves and fears, it doesn’t show. “Someone always alerts the Coven right before people get killed, having them show up just in time to stop a disaster from happening and to find a fully feral demon.”

Oikawa gives Kozume a sharp look. “You know that what you’re implying here would be _big_ , right? They’d have to monitor the whole city. They’d need very good connections in order to contact high leaders in the Coven and smuggle in a demon detector that actually makes demons go feral, all without anyone noticing. There’s no telling who would be in on something on that scale.”

“ _You_ aren’t,” Keiji points out, making Oikawa blink at him in surprise. Keiji’s chest closes up, but this is important. He keeps going, his voice cracking for one traitorous moment. “Right? You didn’t know. And you don’t seem happy to find out.”

Oikawa sniffs, like Keiji has insulted him somehow. “I’m not trying to get other beings killed on purpose, Akaashi-san,” he huffs petulantly. “Demon or not.”

“So you’ll help us stop this?” Keiji asks—Oikawa is kind of acting like it, but he hasn’t said so out loud. It’s killing Keiji not to know for sure. Kuroo’s life might very well depend on this.

Oikawa rolls his eyes with a childish huff. “Well, it’s my ass on the line if your little pet incubus starts killing people, so I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

That’s a yes.

Keiji’s heart skips a beat.

Oikawa is saying yes. He’s doing it. He’s cooperating with them.

After all the weeks of Kozume not finding anything—this could be what they need to finally make progress. To save Kuroo for good.

Keiji’s heart picks back up with a weak stutter. He swallows down the sudden burn of tears, his eyes meeting Tsukishima’s for just a second. Tsukishima looks just as breathlessly overwhelmed and relieved as Keiji feels. Keiji can see it shining in his eyes, can see the faint tremble and press of Tsukishima’s lips, even as most of Tsukishima’s expression remains stoic and calm, unaffected. Keiji does his best to do the same. It wouldn’t do to have an emotional breakdown in front of Oikawa.

But they did it. They really did it.

Even though they won’t be a part of this from here on out, they were still able to help Kuroo with this. Just a little bit. Oikawa could hold all the clues that Kozume needs to really cure Kuroo and to find the one responsible.

This was important. And they did it.

And now—

Now that they’ve done it, there’s no longer any excuse to stick around.

It’s a victory, a really important one—and yet, as they start discussing the details, Keiji suddenly finds himself struggling to keep up his polite, grateful smile.

* * *

Keiji said that he should stay behind and look after Kuroo.

But Koutarou is honestly not sure what he’s supposed to do. How should he care for Kuroo? He doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

Kuroo seems to be doing better, though. He’s hanging around Sawamura and Sugawara a lot. He laughs sometimes, even. It sounds hollow to Koutarou, but maybe that’s just him. Everything feels hollow to him right now.

So he’s kind of. Just sitting on the couch that he slept on last night, eyes following Kuroo whenever he can work up the energy to do at least that.

He doesn’t think that qualifies as looking after Kuroo. He’s already letting Keiji down again.

It shouldn’t be this _hard_ , but it is. Koutarou catches a glimpse of Kuroo smiling at Sawamura and laughing with that hollow sound, and everything inside of him _hurts_.

He feels so tired and drained. He didn’t even do anything to save Kuroo—he shouldn’t feel so exhausted.

But he can’t bring himself to get up. His body is as heavy as a mountain and he doesn’t have the slightest bit of strength left to move it.

Maybe that’s why Keiji left him behind.

At least this way, Koutarou can’t mess up their important talk with Oikawa. Can’t stand by silently when Keiji needs him. Can’t disappoint Keiji more than he already has.

Koutarou slumps back, staring at the ceiling. He’s done watching Kuroo joke around with his friends, he thinks.

He’s so tired.

Maybe he’ll be able to fall asleep. And when he wakes up, it will be over.

Kuroo will be—

Koutarou shivers. He doesn’t want to think about that. He wants to ignore it, until it goes away. Like a child.

He knew it was coming, but he doesn’t want Kuroo to leave. Kuroo is so nice and great and fun to have around and they were just—they were _just_ about to maybe have more—

Koutarou isn’t ready for Kuroo to leave them yet. But there isn’t anything he can do about it, and right now he’s failing at everything anyway, so.

With burning eyes, he continues to stare at the ceiling.

He feels so useless. Everything is so useless.

He is almost asleep and so tired, so he has to blink a couple of times to really register it when something new enters his field of vision.

Kuroo blinks down at him, slowly. His eyes are still glowing. The golden color of his irises looks lighter than it ever did before, spilling out into the rest of his eyes, as if someone poured water into them and made them overflow.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Kuroo asks, like it’s no big deal. Like they’re at home. Just hanging out.

Koutarou has to process that for an embarrassingly long time. When it registers—Kuroo wants to sit with _him_ instead of hanging out with his friends—Koutarou scooches aside as quickly as he can make his weary body move.

“Thanks,” Kuroo hums and sinks down. He’s smiling, but it looks hollow. He doesn’t say anything else, and Koutarou doesn’t know what to say, either, because he’d probably say something wrong and mess things up again. So they’re silent.

Just sitting.

Koutarou wants to tell himself that it’s a comfortable silence, but it feels hollow, like everything else. Like they’re silent just because they don’t know each other anymore. Like Kuroo is a stranger now.

Koutarou stares at his knees, and then he glances at Kuroo, only to find that Kuroo is staring at _him_. He quickly looks back at his knees.

It feels weird, to have Kuroo staring at him.

More silence.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asks after a while, his voice quiet. Koutarou looks back at him, at the serious look in his spilling eyes, and he doesn’t—

He doesn’t understand.

Kuroo was the one dying. Kuroo was the one who tried to die.

Koutarou should be asking _him_ if he’s okay. It shouldn’t be this way around.

Maybe Kuroo is just picking up his slack. Maybe Koutarou has let him down, too, like he let down Keiji and Tsukki.

“I’m sorry,” Koutarou answers after a while, because it’s the best he has to offer.

Kuroo blinks. Koutarou wonders what his ears would do, if they were here now. If they would stick up all cute like they sometimes do. But Kuroo’s ears are skin now, pointed and small and not moving.

It takes a moment, but then Kuroo’s eyes go wide, brows scrunching together with sudden panic. “No, no, hey, don’t cry.”

Koutarou is even more confused now. He’s not crying.

Is he?

He rubs at his cheeks and his fingers get wet. He looks down at his hand, surprised.

A warm weight presses against his shoulder. Kuroo’s hand. Kuroo’s thumb rubs over his shirt, and then Kuroo pulls him close. “Hey, Bo, please don’t cry. It’s okay now. It’s gonna be okay,” Kuroo says, and it sounds hollow. There’s an urgency to his words and a scratchy sound to his voice that makes it sound like _nothing_ will be okay.

“I’m sorry,” Koutarou chokes out, a second time. It doesn’t feel like enough.

“No, no, Bo,” Kuroo murmurs, only getting more frantic. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” Koutarou gasps, and he makes himself not lean into Kuroo like he wants to because _he’s_ the one who messed everything up. Kuroo shouldn’t be hugging him. Koutarou doesn’t deserve it. “I couldn’t protect you when those coven guys showed up and now you’re sick—”

“Bo, no,” Kuroo says, softly but too fast. Hollow. Everything is hollow. “That’s not on you. They only showed up because I couldn’t keep my magic in check.”

Koutarou looks at him. Wonders if Kuroo’s eyes look so wet because he’s about to cry or if it’s because of the weird spilling light. Kuroo looks so sad like that, but somehow his eyes are really pretty.

“Do you still hate yourself?” Koutarou asks. His throat hurts, like the question has thorns that are tearing him up from inside.

Kuroo’s face gets very pale. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his pretty eyes bleeding light and not meeting Koutarou’s.

“I’m sorry,” Koutarou mumbles. “If I hadn’t held you back in the forest, if you had stopped on your own, maybe you wouldn’t hate yourself so much right now.”

“Bo, what—” Kuro’s voice cuts off, weak and choking, like someone has punched him in the chest. “Why would you say that? I could have seriously hurt Tsukki. I could have killed him! I am so, so glad that you were there to stop me. You protected Tsukki, and you protected me from doing something I could never forgive myself for!”

Koutarou worries his lower lip. What Kuroo is saying sounds nice, but it doesn’t make any sense.

“No,” he murmurs. His chest is tight, like it doesn’t want to say the truth. “I did it wrong. That’s why you hate yourself. I did it wrong and that’s why you want to die.”

“Bo,” Kuroo croaks out. He licks his lips. His teeth are so sharp. Like a shark’s. “I don’t hate myself, okay? I just—I don’t like demons.”

Koutarou doesn’t understand.

Maybe it’s because he’s so stupid. That has to be why he doesn’t understand anything.

“But that’s you,” he points out. Kuroo’s giant wings are hanging behind him, long and limp. Like a cape, from one of the heroes in old stories. “You’re part demon. It’s who you are.”

Kuroo pulls back. His shark teeth disappear behind a pained twist of his lips. His eyes fill with tears, and they look different now. The light reflects in the wetness, drawing little glowing specks on his cheeks. “I’m not,” Kuroo chokes out hoarsely.

Koutarou still doesn’t understand. But he understands that he just said the wrong thing. Kuroo is hurt because of what he said. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Kuroo shakes his head, stiffly. It makes a few tears fall. “It’s not your fault, Bo. It’s not your fault that I’m a fucking monster.”

“See, I was right. You do hate yourself,” Koutarou says. It’s a childish win, and it doesn’t feel good. It feels hollow. Worse than hollow.

Kuroo is sniffing and crying harder and Koutarou doesn’t want to be right anymore. He just wants Kuroo to stop crying.

“You’re not a monster,” he tries, to no effect. “What kind of monster cries because it’s scared of hurting someone?”

Kuroo chuckles. It sounds wounded. “Maybe this one does. Crying didn’t _stop_ me from hurting Tsukki.”

Koutarou shakes his head. “I couldn’t stop you, either. Does that mean we’re both monsters?”

Kuroo’s brows scrunch together in a frown. “It doesn’t work that way, Bo. You weren’t the one hurting him.”

Koutarou looks at Kuroo’s pretty glowing tears and he still doesn’t understand. “I hurt _you_ ,” he points out. “That’s why you’re crying.”

Kuroo’s shoulders shake a little bit as his face twists. Koutarou doesn’t know if he’s crying harder or laughing.

Koutarou never knows anything.

“You’re being very stubborn,” Kuroo chokes out, but then he’s smiling. And even though the smile still looks sad, it doesn’t seem hollow anymore.

“I’m sorry?” Koutarou murmurs, less sure of it than before, because even though Kuroo is crying, the sad little smile seems better than whatever was happening before.

Kuroo shakes his head, still with that odd smile. “It’s okay,” he rasps out, his voice as wet as his face. His grin shows all of his shark teeth. “I like that about you.”

“Oh,” Koutarou says, dumbly, because he can’t think of anything else to answer.

Kuroo doesn’t say anything else, just leans in closer. Koutarou’s arms come up around Kuroo’s shoulders almost on their own, like they don’t weigh as much as the whole world anymore. They’re light now. Tingling a little bit.

Kuroo hugs him, too, leaning in until they’re almost falling over sideways. He doesn’t let go, and Koutarou doesn’t let go, and it’s good.

Kuroo lets out a quiet noise that sounds a little bit wounded and a little bit like he’s humming without knowing the melody. It cuts off abruptly before Koutarou can figure out what it’s supposed to be.

But then Kuroo sinks into him a little more, his shoulders tense under Koutarou’s touch, and Koutarou thinks—

Maybe Kuroo was trying to purr.

Maybe he can’t anymore.

It’s odd to think that. When Kuroo was a cat and also when he was human, he has always been able to purr. He has always had his cute cat ears and the thick, fluffy tail.

Now all that is gone.

Does Kuroo miss it? Is that why he looks so sad?

Koutarou thinks he misses it, too. But it’s not nearly as important as holding Kuroo in his arms, safe and alive, at least for now.

Kuroo doesn’t make another sound, but his eyes slip closed and he relaxes after a while. Koutarou thinks he’s fallen asleep. That’s good. Kuroo seemed so exhausted, he really needs that. He looks more peaceful now, his face smoothed out. Shark teeth peeking out with his mouth hanging open just the slightest bit.

Koutarou looks at Kuroo until he drifts off as well. When it happens, he doesn’t feel so hollow inside anymore.

He feels warm, just a little bit.

* * *

It’s only 7 pm, not really all that late. But the last two nights were very short—one interrupted by Oikawa and then one without sleeping at all, frantically trying to come up with a way to save Kuroo’s life. Now, Keiji is beyond tired and exhausted. He expected to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, enveloped by the warmth of Koutarou’s hug.

But it’s been half an hour now and he’s still awake.

Their bed isn’t any different. It shouldn’t feel any different.

But the last time they slept here, Kuroo and Tsukishima were with them. It was too full then, too many people for such a small mattress. Keiji’s sheets were constantly stolen from him or kicked away. Koutarou wasn't next to him like he usually is. Someone’s elbow was digging into him no matter how he lied down.

It should feel better now. Peaceful. A return to how things were before.

But instead, their bed feels too big now. Too cold and too lonely.

After only one night of sharing it.

It's ridiculous. It shouldn’t be that way. Keiji needs forever to get used to new things, he hates sudden unexpected changes, so this shouldn’t be—

It shouldn’t be this hard, being here alone with Koutarou.

But it is.

Because, really, the biggest change is Kuroo _not_ being here anymore.

Kuroo stayed with Kozume, of course. Going back to Kozume was all he ever wanted to do and even if that wasn’t the case, right now he still needs Kozume’s spells to keep his magic in balance, if Keiji understood that part right. There was never any chance of Kuroo staying with them after this.

Keiji saw that coming. He always saw it coming, right from the start, but it was—too sudden.

One moment Kuroo was waiting, a familiar without his partner. And then the next, he was suddenly a demon who’d been lying to them the entire time with a maybe dead partner, and then _Kuroo_ was dying, and all of it was—too much.

Keiji is tired now.

The kind of tired that has his eyes burning and his limbs heavy, but won’t let him fall asleep.

He really liked Kuroo.

He didn’t expect to, in the beginning, but somehow—Kuroo made a place for himself in Keiji’s heart. Keiji wanted to get to know him better, despite his whispering worry that Koutarou might like Kuroo better than him and leave eventually. Despite the sharp sting of betrayal that Kuroo _lied_ about being a familiar this whole time, even when it tore open old wounds for Keiji, even when Keiji told him about losing Airi, even when Keiji was ready to give even more of himself to Kuroo—

It hurts.

But a part of him understands why Kuroo lied. Kuroo didn’t know them in the beginning, so why would he have trusted them? And Kuroo didn’t know, at first, about the kind of damage it did to Keiji. Kuroo was just trying to protect himself and Kozume. Keiji can understand that. They were beyond lucky that Keiji’s family name carries as much weight as it does and that Oikawa made a mistake severe enough that Keiji could blackmail him into leaving Kuroo alone.

Most likely, the Coven mages would have taken Kuroo otherwise. They would have noticed Kuuroo’s growing powers and his loss of control and in the blink of an eye, Kuroo would have been exorcised.

Dead.

Kuroo just didn’t want to die.

Keiji can’t blame him for that, even though it hurts to be lied to.

He just wishes there had been more time with Kuroo. There are so many questions Keiji wants to ask him now. So many worries.

But he can’t change things anymore, at this point. It's too late for that.

Koutarou shifts behind him, in that careful way he has when he thinks Keiji could be asleep and doesn’t want to wake him. There’s a small, hitched noise that sounds pained.

“Is your arm alright?” Keiji asks quietly into the dark. He should have asked sooner. Koutarou was acting as if he wasn’t in any pain, but he was so off, generally, that Keiji could have easily overlooked something. He should have been more attentive. The injury seemed serious, when Keiji saw it.

Four gouges in Koutarou’s arm, cut deep into flesh and muscle.

By Kuroo.

Keiji’s stomach turns just thinking about it. He was the only one not there, in the forest, and he hates not knowing exactly what happened. Both Koutarou and Tsukishima hardly said anything about it, beyond a closed-off ‘It’s fine now’, and Keiji doesn’t _believe_ them. None of them looked _fine_ when Keiji found them.

“It’s okay.” Koutarou’s voice is slow and breathy, but not pained. He sounds as weary as Keiji feels. “Sugawara put some spells and stuff on it. It’s supposed to heal fast and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay,” Keiji says quietly, not knowing what else to say. He’s not sure if he believes Koutarou about this, either.

He hates not believing Koutarou about something.

Everything is so messed up.

He wants to cry, but it feels selfish. He was not the one who got hurt. He wasn’t even there. He doesn’t even know—

Kuroo said he almost killed Tsukishima. How bad was it?

Keiji closes his eyes and tries to stop the images his mind comes up with. He reaches for Koutarou’s hand and draws it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the warm skin.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help,” he murmurs.

There’s a rustle behind him, a tickle that feels like Koutarou shaking his head. “ _I’m_ sorry. I wasn’t there when you needed me with your family.”

“Ugh,” Keiji groans. “Fuck my family.”

That startles a chuckle from Koutarou. “Keiji,” he hums, a little bit scandalized and _happier_ than Keiji has heard him all day. It’s such a relief that it sends tears to Keiji’s eyes.

“It’s true,” Keiji huffs. “They didn’t help. I learned a long time ago that I couldn’t rely on them, and now I’m—”

He trails off. Has to think for a moment. Koutarou waits and lets him.

“I don’t know,” Keiji murmurs eventually. “I’m not happy. It hurt seeing them. But I’m—sad and angry and so many other things—but I was always wondering if I didn’t make a mistake, cutting them off completely, never reaching out, but now—now I know that I was right. They’re never going to change. I want to scream at them, but I think. In a few weeks, when seeing them again doesn’t hurt anymore, maybe then I’ll be better for it. Because now I know that I’m happier without them. That I made the right choice.”

Warm breath at the back of his neck. A gentle kiss. “You’re amazing, Keiji,” Koutarou whispers, soft and awed. “I should tell you more often. You’re amazing and I love you so much.”

Keiji can’t help his smile. Can’t help the tears rolling down the side of his face, silently sinking into the pillow. “You’re amazing, too,” he whispers, hoarse and a little bit choked up.

“I wasn’t very amazing today,” Koutarou mutters. Before Keiji can say anything, he adds, “But I want to be. I want to be better. I don’t want to let you down anymore. You or Kuroo or Tsukki.”

Keiji shuffles a little, so he can turn around and look at Koutarou. He can barely make out anything in the darkness, nothing more than the vague outline of Koutarou’s head, but it feels better this way. “Okay,” he murmurs.

A part of him wishes he could say something else, something like ‘you still tried your best’ like he has said in the past when Koutarou felt down on himself, but—

Another part of Keiji is still too hurt. Still seething in the bitter disappointment of facing his mother while Koutarou was in the same room and didn’t say a _single word_ to support him.

He thinks Koutarou knows, so maybe—maybe that’s just how things are, right now.

Maybe they’ll both work to be better, and then the next time will be different. If it ever comes to it.

Keiji wants to believe that they will be better.

He curls up closer to Koutarou’s warmth, wishing they were already there. In a future where things are okay.

“You know,” he hums on a happier note. “Azumane-san is going to be polite tomorrow and ask me how my weekend was. And I will have to say, oh, it was fine, it’s just that our cat turned out to be a demon who then turned out to be dying, and we managed to save him for now but we made enemies of both the city coven and the city temple in the process. Also my family is never going to speak to me again. What did you do this weekend?”

Koutarou snickers quietly. Too quiet for Keiji’s comfort, still too soft compared to his usual cheer, but at least he is laughing at all. Keiji was worried that this slump would carry on even longer. Mentally he was already preparing to suggest that Koutarou should call his therapist again.

Sometimes he thinks, maybe they’re really just two idiots who are skulking through the occasional phases of life where neither of them has to see a therapist, until something happens and they need to again.

“I think Azumane-san might literally faint if you tell him that,” Koutarou hums quietly, his voice a little bit rough with amusement.

Keiji smiles, even though Koutarou can’t see. “Maybe I’ll tone it down, then.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Koutarou murmurs. His voice has gone even quieter, and flat in a way that has Keiji’s chest tight with worry.

“Kou?” he asks.

A beat of silence.

“M’sorry,” is muttered, faintly, and Keiji’s heart squeezes painfully.

“Why are you sorry?”

A shuffle. Koutarou’s arm gets a little tighter around him, but it’s tense. Keiji wonders if Koutarou is in pain after all or if it’s something else.

“Just—” Koutarou’s voice is thin. So thin. Like it will fade away if Keiji breathes too loudly. “Do you think—do you think Kuroo will ever come back to us?”

Cold washes over Keiji. Dread and worry and fear.

There are so many questions tangled up in that one sentence. _Heavy_ questions. The kind of heavy that makes it hard to breathe past the weight of it.

Koutarou is asking if Kuroo will be alright, if he’ll come out of this alive, and Keiji doesn’t know. He wishes he knew.

Koutarou is asking if Kuroo will be free to do what he wants afterwards, if he’ll be allowed to live his life and not be restrained by the Coven, and Keiji doesn’t know that, either. He’s hoping, at least, that his deal with Oikawa will keep Kuroo safe.

And Koutarou is asking if Kuroo will want to see them again, and Keiji—Keiji _hopes_ that will be the case. But he’s not sure if he believes that. When they said their goodbyes to Kuroo today, after a whole month of living together, after everything that happened and everything they’d been through—Kuroo hardly even bothered to look at them. He was leaning on Sawamura, exhausted and frazzled, eyes skittering all over the place until he spotted Kozume and then Kuroo stared at Kozume as if he couldn’t breathe otherwise.

Keiji hates to think it, but it really didn’t look like Kuroo was interested in them at all. Why would Kuroo bother to visit them, when now he can be with Kozume and his other friends again? Just because Keiji and Koutarou got pathetically hung up on him in the short time they spent together, that doesn’t mean that the same is the case for Kuroo.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to care for them much at all.

Keiji hates that.

Although—maybe he’s being overly dramatic. Kuroo just went through a lot. He almost died. He spent a whole day thinking that Kozume died. Of course Kuroo would be shaken up and preoccupied with that. It doesn’t necessarily mean that he doesn’t care about Keiji and Koutarou and Tsukishima _at all_ , even if it feels that way right now.

Maybe Kuroo _will_ be alright, and he _will_ be safe from the Coven, and he _will_ want to see them again. It’s not impossible.

Maybe Keiji should be a little bit more optimistic.

He doesn’t think Kuroo cares about them in the same way they care for him—it’s ridiculous to think that Kuroo would fall in love with them, both of them—but maybe he at least likes them as friends. Maybe he’ll want to come by again, to play video games with Koutarou and read with Keiji and—do whatever he does with Tsukishima. Maybe that will be enough.

Maybe Kuroo will come back, once all this is over, just for a nice afternoon with the four of them. Keiji really hopes so.

“Keiji? Are you mad?” Koutarou asks then, sounding a little bit worried, and Keiji realizes that he’s been lost in thought for too long.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, nudging his nose into Koutarou’s shirt. “I’m not mad. I’m hoping that Kuroo will come back, too. I think it could happen.”

“Yeah?” Koutarou asks, with a painfully small bit of hope in his voice.

“Yeah,” Keiji hums. He tries to make it sound convincing. Like the simple act of _hoping_ doesn’t already feel like he’s asking for too much.

“Okay,” Koutarou murmurs softly, with the same air of hesitant relief and lingering fear as a child who’s been told that there aren’t any monsters beneath the bed.

Silence sweeps over them.

Keiji closes his eyes. It almost feels like now he might actually be able to fall asleep. The gnawing, aching worry in his chest has quieted for the moment, simmering and dozing beneath the surface.

Then Koutarou shifts once more. “Keiji?” he asks, very quietly.

This time, Keiji’s eyelids are very heavy when he blinks them open. “Yes, Koutarou?”

“Do you,” Koutarou’s voice, if anything, gets even smaller. “Do you think Tsukki is okay?”

Oh.

“Because,” Koutarou keeps going nervously, “he’s all alone now. I have you, and I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you. But what about him?”

Keiji presses his lips together tightly, tension creeping back into his body. “I don’t know, Kou,” he says, sharper than he means to. He takes a breath, forces himself to relax and be nicer because Koutarou _needs_ him to be nice right now. “You offered him to stay here tonight and he said no.”

Tsukishima didn’t just say no. He snapped at Koutarou so harshly that Koutarou went to their room and nearly cried. If Keiji wasn’t exhausted down to his bones, he would have told Tsukishima off, but—

He's so tired. Of everything.

And a part of him is less upset and more. Sad. That Tsukishima isn’t here with them right now.

It feels like he _should_ be.

Keiji just doesn’t have it in him to be angry anymore. Not after everything that happened. He hardly even has the strength left to still be angry at his family.

He sighs. “If Tsukishima doesn’t want to be here, he’ll have his reasons,” he tells Koutarou gently, not sure if he believes it himself.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that Tsukishima is okay.

Tsukishima really liked Kuroo, too. Maybe not as much as Koutarou and Keiji, or in a different way, but there was still affection there. A connection. Enough of one that Tsukishima was jealous and worried to see Kuroo with Koutarou and Keiji. And maybe if things hadn’t fallen apart when they did, right now they would be—

They would _all_ be—

But things did fall apart. And Kuroo is gone. And Tsukishima was mean to Koutarou again. And Koutarou isn’t doing well.

And now it’s just the two of them, together, and the almost tangible absence of two other people. And they will all have to deal with that.

“Okay,” Koutarou mutters quietly. He doesn’t sound happy.

Keiji isn’t happy, either. But he can’t _change_ it, so he—he just wants to be _done_ with it already.

“I’m really tired,” he says, as gently as he can.

“Okay,” Koutarou answers, dull and flat and apologetic. “Sorry for keeping you up, Keiji. Sleep well. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Kou,” Keiji murmurs. His chest gets a little bit warmer, like it always does when he hears Koutarou say that he loves him.

He closes his eyes again, determined to just be done with this mess of a day once and for all. He is not cold and not lonely and the bed is not too big or too empty, he tells himself, because Koutarou is here. It could be worse. If Koutarou wasn’t here, that would be so much worse. Keiji loves him so much, and knowing that Koutarou loves him always makes things a little bit better, even when the situation is miserable.

Keiji shuffles closer to Koutarou and buries his—probably cold—nose in Koutarou’s shirt.

Koutarou’s arm over his side is still tense.

Maybe in pain. Or maybe, tonight it’s Koutarou who just can’t shut up his worries. Either way it means that Koutarou is not as okay as Keiji was hoping. Keiji will have to do something about that. In the morning. After he’s had some sleep.

When he’s no longer tired and exhausted and feeling like there is a hole in his heart, despite Koutarou being right here with him.

He’ll deal with all of these problems tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that brings our "Worst Weekend Ever" arc to a close! Would you believe I originally intended for this weekend to take like three or four chapters? And instead it turned into ten. Almost half the fic. Oops :p
> 
> I have to admit, Oikawa showing up again was a lot of fun! But writing Bokuto's POV was my favorite in this. It focuses on very different things than the others' POVs, because _Bokuto_ focuses on very different things, and I just enjoy it immensely.
> 
> I also spent a long time thinking about how I could bring across how devastatingly unsatisfactory and lacking Kuroo's departure feels to the other three—until I had the great idea to skip over it altogether! Haha!  
> Did it work? Are you feeling sad and unfulfilled? Are you worried about Kuroo? Are you upset that you don't know what's happening to him now?  
> If so, you're welcome! >:)
> 
> Hopefully, the next update won't take as long. I'll definitely try my best! :')
> 
> Much love and stay safe out there!


	22. Area Man Disappointed To Learn That Birthdays In Your Twenties Just Hit Differently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope everyone is still doing okay!
> 
> As usual, your comments on the last chapter have been the highlight of my day. Thank you for sticking around despite the current slow pace! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Koutarou kind of hopes that things will be better the next morning. Usually, they are, after some sleep.

But not this time.

Kuroo is still gone and a part of Koutarou knows it’s because he couldn’t do enough for Kuroo and that’s just—he feels awful.

He drags himself out of bed and sits silently at breakfast with Keiji. Tsukki isn’t there, already off to uni, and at this point Koutarou doesn’t even know anymore if he’s sad or relieved about Tsukki being gone.

Breakfast itself is simple because Kuroo didn’t get up early to prepare it for them, and maybe that’s why it tastes like dust. It doesn’t matter much, because Koutarou isn’t hungry anyway, and his throat has closed up with something foreign and scratchy.

Keiji does his best to keep up a very one-sided conversation and Koutarou feels horrible about that, too, because—Keiji is trying so _hard_ , Koutarou knows, even though everything is awful and terrible and Keiji is missing Kuroo, too. But Keiji is still trying to help Koutarou. Koutarou should be happy. He knows he would be, usually, but this time the warm little flutter in his chest just won’t come.

He feels empty.

Keiji eventually has to kiss him goodbye and take off. Koutarou keeps sitting where he is, staring down at his mostly uneaten breakfast, all alone now.

He kind of wants to cry, but the tears won’t come, either.

He knows that time is passing. More and more of it. He needs to get up and catch his train, or he’ll miss classes. And work.

But he can’t bring himself to get up.

The sunlight streaming in through the window changes position.

At some point, Koutarou does get up and look at the time, realizing that his first class is already half over. He knows, theoretically, that he should rush to get going. He can still make the one after that.

But he doesn’t.

His body is so heavy and all he can do is fall back into bed without even getting changed.

Hours pass without him being able to fall asleep. And then he does sleep, waking up in the dim evening light, feeling even more exhausted than he did before. His nose has clogged up while he was asleep and his throat is scratchy in a different way than just from wanting to cry. His head is pounding and heavy and feeling grossly hot.

He’s sick, he realizes, and then doesn’t do anything about it because it’s as good a reason as any to stay in bed.

Maybe if he tells Keiji that he stayed home because of a cold, Keiji will worry less. Maybe this is something good, even.

Maybe it’s because of the cold that he feels empty and numb and still can’t cry, and when it’s over things will finally go back to normal.

Koutarou closes his eyes.

_As if._

* * *

The stupid idiot Bokuto has caught a cold. It’s not very surprising, really, with how much time they spent running around in the middle of the night and with how often Bokuto lost his coat due to some reason or other.

Coughing and sniffling, Bokuto stays in bed for the next three days. He doesn’t even get up to go to a doctor.

Akaashi is letting it happen, and Kei—

Well, Kei is not going to get involved. It’s none of his business what those two do, anyway.

He can see that it’s all putting a strain on Akaashi, who suddenly has to care for Bokuto and try not to get sick himself and is finding himself without his usual help with chores—

Kei takes on some of those, and it gets him a small, dim smile from Akaashi which sends a dull stab through his chest.

Housework keeps his hands busy, keeps him distracted, so it’s good, really. It’s fine this way. It’s all going to be fine.

Hopefully soon, because right now, Kei isn’t sure how he’ll make it to the end of the day. He’s barely able to sleep and has had a pounding headache for days. It’s getting bothersome to brush off Akaashi’s offers to do something together, and it’s all wearing Kei down almost to the point where he’s ready to just cave and accept, but—

He can’t.

He can’t sit around with Bokuto and Akaashi, because then it would become horribly apparent that one of them is _missing_.

And really, Kei doesn’t need those two moping idiots around him, watching them fall apart and then try to lovingly put each other back together. _Each other_ , and not him—which is perfectly reasonable of course, because they’re not dating _him_. Kei doesn’t need more reminders of that. Doesn’t want to see them all over each other and always be the odd one out.

What do they even want with him? Why do they keep asking him if he wants to cook or to eat or to read or to play video games together?

Do they really need a stand-in for Kuroo that badly?

Well, too bad, because Kei couldn’t hope to replace that smooth-talking, selfish asshole even if he tried.

Kuroo is gone and they will all have to live with that. Kei always knew that keeping his distance would be the only reasonable course of action. So maybe if he hadn’t—

That’s the point where he usually cuts himself off. Where he grabs a basket of laundry or a bag to buy groceries or just puts on some music to keep his mind occupied.

He’s watching Akaashi and Bokuto fall apart, and Kei will have no part in it. He’s going to keep it together. He will be just fine.

He only had two minutes with them, a blink of an eye where it seemed like so many wonderful things might be shared by the four of them, and then it was _gone_ , and that’s just how real life works, and Kei is a rational adult who’s not going to mourn two short minutes of planning a completely casual foursome, like a complete fucking idiot.

Fuck.

The next time Akaashi approaches him with soft eyes, Kei doesn’t let him get any further than opening his mouth before Kei cuts in with, “I want to be alone tonight, no thanks.”

Akaashi closes his mouth again. Something falls over his expression, but it’s not the annoyance Kei expected.

Why don’t they get annoyed with him? He’s being a complete and utter asshole to them while they’re just trying to be nice.

Why won’t they take a fucking hint and just leave him alone?

But instead, here Akaashi is, for the umpteenth time in only three days, looking at Kei with tired, bloodshot eyes and a defeated expression. “I asked Kozume-san to give me his number so we could keep in touch,” Akaashi mutters and his voice is much rougher than Kei is used to.

That’s not nearly as shocking as hearing Kozume’s name, though.

Kei hardly dares to breathe as Akaashi goes on. “I’ve been bothering him for updates on Kuroo. He seems to be doing okay so far.”

Kei can’t do anything more than gape at Akaashi. His heart is beating so fiercely in his chest that it’s painful.

Kuroo is—

Kuroo is okay. For now.

Everything is beginning to spin in a very disorienting way. He feels sick.

“Thanks,” he grunts, far more brusquely than Akaashi deserves. Without bothering to look back, Kei brushes past him and disappears into his room. With the door shut behind him, he sinks down to the floor and tries very hard to breathe past the weight pressing down on his chest. Past the lump in his throat. Past the burning pressure of tears.

 _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,_ he repeats to himself, like he’s some stupid child.

It would be so stupid to get hung up on Kuroo who was always going to leave them. So stupid to wish for more just because Akaashi and Bokuto keep trying to offer him comfort. _So stupid_ , and Kei knew it all along.

Yet here he is.

He still can’t breathe, face hot and wet with tears, and it’s all he can do to stay quiet, quiet enough that Akaashi won’t hear him sobbing from outside. If Akaashi or that big idiot Bokuto figure him out, if they actually go through with comforting him—

There will be no stopping this.

And Kei won’t have that. He’s going to keep it together. Anything else would just be pathetic.

With shaking fingers, he digs out his phone and selects a well-known contact. He swallows, once, so his voice won’t give him away when he mumbles, “Yamaguchi, hey. What are you up to?”

* * *

It’s Friday and Koutarou still hasn’t been able to make himself do—anything, really.

His feathers have started falling out, all sad and choppy, and they’re strewn around the bed like a sad testament to how broken and shattered Koutarou feels.

It’s already late by the time Keiji crawls into bed with him, visibly exhausted. Koutarou was hoping that Keiji would be able to rest and recover during the week, but if anything, Keiji looks worse now than he did after the last weekend.

But it makes sense that Keiji would be tired still, because he gets stuck with so much work and he hasn’t been sleeping well. Koutarou knows. He’d like to help Keiji, but Koutarou is sleeping too much, so he’s never there to support Keiji.

He’s a very poor excuse for a boyfriend.

“Kozume-san texted me again today. Shimizu-san's spell is still holding up and Kuroo is doing okay,” Keiji murmurs softly. His smile is weak and his eyes look dull as they carefully muster Koutarou.

Koutarou doesn’t know what Keiji is looking for. Even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t be able to give it. He just keeps disappointing Keiji.

Eventually, Keiji sighs. He turns a bit more towards Koutarou, brows furrowing together.

“I know this is hard, Koutarou,” he says, quiet but steady.

Mentally, Koutarou prepares himself for the ‘but pull yourself together’. For the part where Keiji will chew him out for being such a hopeless boyfriend and leaving Keiji to deal with this mess _all alone_.

Keiji’s hand settles on his shoulder and squeezes it with gentle strength. “But I’m going to pull us through this. Don’t worry.”

Koutarou almost stops breathing. There’s not a single trace of doubt in Keiji’s voice. Keiji is weary, yes, but so _determined_ that it sparks something in the emptiness that has been gnawing at Koutarou.

He misses Kuroo so much. He couldn’t do anything to help when push came to shove. Keiji and Tsukishima are both sad and falling apart and Koutarou just left them to it and it’s horrible. He feels horrible.

But it’s hard to feel that way when Keiji is looking at him like _that_ , with a calm but overwhelming confidence that seems so much more powerful than any hopelessness ever could.

Koutarou’s eyes are quickly filling with tears and he almost crumbles forward into Keiji, crushing him against his chest. “You’re so fucking cool, Keiji,” he chokes out, hoarse and shaking. His fingers clench tightly in Keiji’s shirt. “So amazing. I don’t deserve you.”

There’s a hitched little sound. Keiji’s arms wrap around him and then Koutarou feels warm, wet tears against his own shoulder. “You’re always pulling me, Kou,” Keiji gasps out. “I can pull you, too.”

Honestly, Koutarou doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry harder. He’s never pulled Keiji along like _this_. Keiji never left him hanging like _this_. Even when Keiji was at his lowest, mourning the loss of his family and his familiar, he still managed a small, sad smile for Koutarou every day.

And here Koutarou is, unable to even get out of bed. Trusting Keiji to type excuses for his classes and work into his phone.

“But I miss you, Kou. Please come back to me,” Keiji sobs, and Koutarou squeezes him that much harder.

All this time he’s been numb inside, but Keiji’s words are opening up a stabbing pain.

Keiji must have been so alone. They both lost Kuroo, but Keiji lost _Koutarou_ , too, and that must have made it so much worse.

There’s a lump building in Koutarou’s throat, steadily growing bigger and bigger.

Keiji is shaking in his arms, like Koutarou’s muscles sometimes do after he’s pushed himself way too hard for way too long.

Keiji has kept it together all this time, despite everything that happened—Kuroo’s life being in danger and seeing his family again and then saying goodbye—and Keiji pushed on because _he had to_ , because no one else would have otherwise. He pushed and pushed and pushed, even alone. Even though Keiji must have been just as far past his limits as Koutarou was.

And now it’s all spilling over.

“I’m here, Keiji,” Koutarou rasps out, holding Keiji as tightly as he dares. “I’m here. I’m gonna be here. I promise. I love you so much. I let you down but I won’t anymore. I’ll be here.”

“Kou,” Keiji whimpers and breaks off, pressing himself closer. Koutarou can feel the rapid, heaving rise and fall of his chest, how unsteady his breaths are, how his sobs shake him. And Koutarou holds him, kisses his soft hair, hoping that it will be enough. Hoping that finally being allowed to fall apart will help Keiji.

Koutarou is crying himself, too, but it’s quieter. Nothing like Keiji’s sobs and sniffles, even as they both mourn the same thing.

Something that could have been, before it slipped away from them.

Kuroo is gone now and Koutarou isn’t sure if he’s going to come back. There’s nothing they can do to help Kuroo at this point and Koutarou hates that.

But he can still do something for Keiji. And for Tsukki, who’s being a terrible asshole again but probably because he’s hurting, too.

Koutarou _wants_ to do something for them. It’s about time. All he’s been doing so far has been lying around. Someone needs to cheer up his two overthinking roommates. Someone needs to make them smile again. They need to prepare for Keiji’s birthday which is only two days away. Koutarou has gathered a bunch of ideas and smaller presents, but nothing big—he was too distracted with Kuroo, with all of the chaos, but there is still time and if he finds something good, it’ll be bound to put them all in higher spirits again.

There is so much to _do_ , Koutarou realizes, rubbing a hand over his sticky, half-dry face before he’s back to stroking Keiji’s heaving back.

Even without Kuroo—or maybe _because_ they’re without Kuroo and his easy jokes and his teasing jabs to do something—Koutarou needs to get up and take care of Keiji and Tsukki.

And suddenly, with that thought, he can't wait to get up and do things again.

* * *

Keiji honestly expects his birthday to not be a big deal this year. It’s only reasonable. The last weekend has been so very exhausting and they’ve been scrambling to put everything back together this week—with Kuroo gone, and Tsukishima apparently trying his hardest to pull away from them in the wake of it, and Koutarou in possibly the worst slump he’s ever had.

That’s why Keiji has low expectations when he is woken up by a nudge against his shoulder. He blinks a few times, trying to make his eyes focus on the sun-lit bedsheets.

“Good morning, Keiji,” Koutarou’s low voice rumbles from behind him. The warm breath hitting his ear and blowing through his hair almost make Keiji shiver.

He turns around, just a little bit, and then has to blink a few more times until Koutarou’s wide, proud smile and beaming expression fully register.

“Happy birthday!” Koutarou says excitedly, still quiet and soft for his standards. He bounces energetically on the mattress, enough that it’s slowly shaking Keiji awake. “Come on, come on, or breakfast will get cold!”

Keiji blinks at him, again. He’s still trying to catch up to the situation. Koutarou did seem a lot better yesterday, but still Keiji didn’t really dare to hope—

“Hey,” he breathes, feeling a smile pulling at his lips.

Koutarou bounces again, skipping forward to brush a kiss against Keiji’s mouth, then drawing back with his cheerful grin as firmly in place as if it was never gone. “I know you don’t like breakfast in bed,” he hums, waggling his brows conspiratorially as if he’s about to share a very good secret. “So I decided, I could take you and the bed to breakfast!”

“What—” Keiji begins, and then he squeaks in a very undignified manner as Koutarou suddenly picks him up along with the sheets. Keiji doesn’t dare to squirm around too much for fear of falling, but Koutarou’s hold on him is firm and sure. He adjusts Keiji’s weight in his arms, almost bundling him up in the sheets, and then skips out of the room as if Keiji doesn’t weigh a thing to him.

In the living room, Keiji can see what Koutarou meant by breakfast getting cold—there’s a full spread. Both rice and bread, at least four different plates with fried vegetables that Keiji can spot at a glance, two kinds of soup, three more plates with cut fruit, a huge and precariously tilting tower of pancakes, fried eggs and roasted salmon and even the vegan cheese that’s sort of expensive and no one likes but Keiji.

Koutarou puts him down on the couch very gently, careful not to jostle the table. He stays crouched in front of Keiji then, with a bright, expectant smile. “Do you like it?”

Keiji can only wonder—just when did Koutarou have the time to get all of this? How early did he get up to prepare it all? How hard did he try to be quiet to make this a surprise, because Keiji truly can’t remember hearing anything?

Koutarou really seems to be back on track again, and that in and of itself is already enough to make this the best birthday Keiji’s had so far.

He makes an effort to not school his expression, to let his happiness and relief and love shine through as intensely as he feels them right now. “I love it,” he replies.

Koutarou’s smile gets even wider, a proud little gasp leaving him. He drops down onto the couch next to Keiji, pressing close. “I’m glad!” he says, slipping one arm around Keiji’s shoulders.

Keiji gives him a wry look. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“You go on ahead! I can eat later!” Koutarou hums cheerily. As if on cue, his stomach growls a moment later, and his smile drops into something sheepish.

Keiji nudges him with a quiet chuckle. “Come on. I want to have breakfast _together_ with you.”

Koutarou’s grin snaps back instantly. “Alright, if you say so!”

As they both start picking things out and eating, Keiji can’t help but mention carefully, “You’re doing really well today.”

Koutarou blinks at him, once, perfectly aware of Keiji’s cautious implication. “Yeah. I’m—I feel like I’m okay again.” He leans closer, gently nudging Keiji’s shoulder. “Sorry again, for leaving you to deal with so much on your own.”

Keiji shrugs. “It’s done now.” He chews for a while on his fried paprika which is a little bit more fried than it needs to be, but still tastes good. “Do you—Are you going to call your therapist?” he asks, barely above a mumble.

He’s surprised by the enthusiastic nod Koutarou gives. “Already did! Well, I emailed, and she’ll probably reply after the weekend, but—yeah. I’ll try really hard not to let something like this happen again. I want you to be able to rely on me, Keiji. I want you to know that whatever happens, you’ll always have me.”

Keiji’s heart flutters embarrassingly. He can’t help but smile, brushing his fingers over the back of Koutarou’s hand before he reaches for a pancake. “Thank you, Kou. I’m sure you’ll get there.”

Koutarou’s face goes all flushed. Even with his feathers mostly fallen out, his shoulders still rise up with pride as he grins widely. “I will! Just watch me, Keiji! I’m gonna be the greatest boyfriend ever!”

“Yes, of course,” Keiji hums amicably. It doesn’t feel, entirely, like he’s just indulging Koutarou. It feels, just a little bit, like he actually believes it. And that’s both scary and exhilarating, filling his chest with warmth.

Koutarou beams at him, like the sun. They eat for a little while longer, quiet and peaceful together, before Koutarou glances at him with a careful look. “How about you, Keiji? Do you want to call up your therapist again?”

A bit surprised, Keiji looks up from his attempt at combining his vegan cheese with the salmon. He doesn’t have to think about his answer for long, though. “I’m not,” he replies easily, nudging the cheese a bit higher. “I feel pretty okay by now and it would be expensive. I’ll see how things go from here first.”

“Okay,” Koutarou murmurs. “But tell me if you feel worse?”

“Of course,” Keiji hums with a smile, leaning a bit more into Koutarou’s side. He likes Koutarou’s warmth seeping through the sheets, and he knows that Koutarou likes this, too.

They finish breakfast like that, cuddling even though it’s impractical, talking quietly with the occasional bit of laughter. By the end of it, Keiji could almost forget that Koutarou was barely more than a shell of himself just two days ago.

“What do you want to do next, Keiji?” Koutarou asks diligently, by now fully aware that Keiji doesn’t like surprises that don’t give him any control. It took only one slightly awkward year for them to figure that out, and since then, Keiji is always presented with multiple options to choose from. Keiji joked once that it might become a problem of its own, because Koutarou knows him well and all of his ideas are intriguing. Last year, they ended up with Bokuto taking him to some other spot every day for a whole week. It was amazing, though also exhausting, and Keiji wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He honestly didn’t expect Koutarou to prepare so much again—with Kuroo and his slump. But Koutarou _did_.

They settle on going to a park—instead of the museum or an old cinema re-playing a movie based on one of Keiji’s favorite books, or staying home and watching a movie while eating Keiji’s favorite ice cream which Koutarou somehow managed to find, or letting Keiji ‘go wild’ in a bookstore as Koutarou puts it, or go a cat café because—

Well. Keiji really doesn’t want to look at any black cats for the foreseeable future. He really wants this to be a happy day.

And now that Koutarou is his bright, happy self again, Keiji thinks it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, what a fun chapter, am I right? I almost made myself cry :')
> 
> Sorry this update is so short!  
> I'm hoping that with shorter chapters, I'll be able to update more often. But I also have a lot of weekend seminars ahead of me, plus a course to become a pole dancing trainer, so let's see :')
> 
> This chapter was very focused on Bokuto and Akaashi. These poor guys have been through a lot, but now they finally got a chance to recover a little bit :)  
> I hope you enjoyed this more relaxed, emotional chapter as much as I did!  
> Stay safe and until next time! :)


	23. Ten Ways To Cope With When Your Cat Doesn’t Meow Back At You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I am finally back with an update!
> 
> My eternal gratitude goes out to everyone who read the last chapter and let me know their thoughts!  
> A lot of you guys were asking "Is Tsukki okay?" Well, fret no more! You shall find out this chapter :3c

“Are you—are you okay, Tsukki?”

The question comes quietly. Hesitantly.

Kei is not in the mood to answer it at all. He raises his head just enough to glare at Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi, predictably, fumbles and looks away.

What’s new is how a moment later, he straightens up, his lips pressed together nervously as he stares back at Kei. “I just mean. It’s not like you to call me up in the middle of the night. And every time we meet up, you’re just—”

A bit helplessly, Yamaguchi gestures to where Kei is slumped on his couch, leaning onto the small table in front of him now that he’s given up on studying.

The embarrassing truth is, Yamaguchi is still making the whole thing sound better than it is—as if Kei hasn’t called him multiple times, at the oddest hours, to demand that Yamaguchi talk to him. Just talk, no matter the topic. His day. His mood. Reading a book for uni out loud. Kei hasn’t been picky, and he knows that it’s suspicious as hell. But he’s still trying to keep it together, and that means locking this— _all of this_ —away without giving it any space.

Kei won’t allow this whole mess to take over his life.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mutters. He doesn’t want to see Yamaguchi’s tense expression any longer, so he glares at his still open book instead.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi mutters with a sigh.

It’s a well-known routine between them. Almost comforting by now with its familiarity alone. Except—

Except a part of Kei hates it. Hates that Yamaguchi won’t dig deeper and make him talk about it. Hates that people will leave him to stew in his own misery so easily. Hates that he’s told his friend—his _best friend_ —to shut up so often that neither of them questions it anymore. Hates that he’s so callous that acting this way doesn’t feel out of the ordinary anymore. Hates that no one will call him out on it, even though it might be hurtful—even though he’s _seen_ how it hurts Bokuto sometimes. He hates that he’s so used to pushing others away that by now he doesn’t know how to do anything else anymore.

He’s spending more time with Yamaguchi than ever and Yamaguchi is doing everything he can to be a good friend, and still Kei feels so—so alone.

It’s not _fair_.

He knew—when he allowed himself to be sucked into this thing with Kuroo and Bokuto and Akaashi, he _knew_ that getting invested would be a bad idea. That it would hurt later. But he was greedy and stupid and he did it anyway, and then it all fell apart in two minutes and now here he is with the broken pieces of his life.

He’s such an idiot.

He should have seen it coming. He _did_ see it coming. Why didn’t he stay away? If he had just kept his distance for five minutes longer—if he hadn’t so foolishly hoped that he could have this—if he had just turned around and walked back to his room in that moment, hadn’t been there when Kuroo broke down, hadn’t gone with them to find Kozume, hadn’t stuck around as they tried to save Kuroo—

Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much right now.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like loneliness is eating him up from the inside out, even while he’s sitting in his best friend’s living room.

Maybe it’s because Yamaguchi doesn’t know. Because he still thinks that Kuroo is just a cat, because Kei was stupid and stubborn and only said that the owner had finally dropped by and taken the stupid animal home and that Kei was glad not to be picking black fur off his things anymore—

Sometimes he still finds a few hairs stuck somewhere and then it’s a race against time to throw them in the trash before the lump in his throat can grow into something unbearable.

It hurts. All because Kei allowed himself to walk into this.

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid_.

He kept thinking to himself that Bokuto would be a ridiculous, emotional mess once Kuroo left, but now here they are and if anything, Kei is even worse than Bokuto.

Because Bokuto, lucky bastard that he is, at least has Akaashi. And of course perfect, composed Akaashi is holding up fine. Pulling the two of them through this. By now Bokuto is bouncing around the place as if nothing is wrong at all.

Because they both _understand_. They both knew Kuroo. Knew Tetsurou. Bokuto had his silly crush, and Kei thinks Akaashi really liked him, too—but even now that Kuroo is _gone_ , at least they can comfort each other. And they’re fine.

Kei has no one.

He wants to be angry, and he _is_. But mostly at himself because it’s all his own fucking fault.

He should have stayed away. Why didn’t he stay away? He knew it would end badly.

He should be glad it’s all over now. He should see this as the helpful lesson it is and pick up the pieces, tape them back together into something more stable, someone less foolish and emotional.

But no matter how hard he tries, it just won’t work.

He’s just a stupid idiot and now he’s all alone, stuck with too many feelings that he doesn’t want.

* * *

Tsukishima keeps declining all of their offers to do something together.

Koutarou appears to truly be back to his old self, because he doesn’t get discouraged by that at all. He keeps inviting Tsukishima, to cooking together, eating together, working out or studying together, to watch a show or just to sit in their living room in amicable silence. No matter how many times Tsukishima shoots him down, he doesn’t stop.

Keiji, on the other hand, gives up after a few more times. He doesn’t have the energy to keep pushing, and quite frankly, not the nerves, either. If Tsukishima is so determined to shut them out, then let him. Maybe he needs to be alone.

To be entirely truthful, Keiji isn’t sure which one is the better course of action—to allow Tsukishima to pull away or to keep pushing against the walls he’s put up, hoping that maybe they’ll eventually crumble. In that sense, it’s very fortunate that he and Koutarou can divide and conquer. At some point, maybe one of their approaches will work out. And until then, they can keep trying both.

Sometimes, Keiji catches himself thinking that Kuroo would have gotten through to Tsukishima right away. He just seemed to have a talent for it. No matter how grumpy Tsukishima was, it never took Kuroo more than a few minutes to convince him to do something.

A part of Keiji really wishes he could ask Kuroo for advice on what to do, but then again, that’s the root of their problem. If Kuroo wasn’t gone from their lives, Tsukishima wouldn’t be closing up like this.

It’s not that Keiji doesn’t understand. He misses Kuroo, too. Sometimes he’ll read a book and think something is particularly bad or funny, and then he’ll think that he should make Kuroo read it later before reality catches up to him. Keiji will cook or do laundry or write down which groceries they need to buy, and suddenly the memory of how he used to do these things together with Kuroo will hit him with such intensity that he can barely breathe.

At least Kuroo seems to be doing alright. Every two or three days, Keiji will get impatient enough to bother Kozume with texts until it yields a reply. Always short, almost always the same, but at least it’s always _‘Kuroo’s okay. Nothing’s changed’_. Keiji always makes sure to tell Koutarou and Tsukishima about it, so they won’t have to worry any more than necessary. Koutarou always gets quiet for a few minutes before he snaps back, and Tsukishima never acknowledges him with more than a nod.

Keiji wonders, sometimes, if this is just going to be their new normal from now on.

But then, just when he’s beginning to get used to it, Tsukishima rattles it all around.

“I’m throwing out Kuroo’s toothbrush,” Tsukishima says, head peeking from the hallway into the living room where Koutarou and Keiji are sitting. Tsukishima’s expression is as nonchalant as if he’s talking about getting fresh towels out.

But this isn’t just about towels. And the moment it really sinks in what Tsukishima is talking about, Keiji’s stomach turns over. He startles forward, feeling Koutarou doing the same.

The instinctive urge to protest is crawling up his throat. They can’t throw out the toothbrush, _Kuroo is going to come back_ —

But then he stops himself. Because—

Maybe that’s exactly why they should throw it out.

They don’t know for _sure_ if Kuroo will be back. And while they’re waiting, it makes no sense to keep something useless lying around, no matter how much Keiji may want to.

Keeping the toothbrush around is like saying that Kuroo might come back at any time. But he won’t. They all know that. Even if he does come back, it will take a while until the issue with his magic gets sorted out.

It might do them all some good to not keep reminders of him lying around. Even if it feels wrong to throw something of Kuroo’s out.

And Keiji knows that it means something that Tsukishima is doing it only now, instead of earlier. It has been two weeks already. There were plenty of opportunities.

It also means something that Tsukishima is announcing it like this. Keiji isn’t sure what to make of it—if Tsukishima is trying to level with them for once or if he’s doing it to pick a fight with Koutarou—but he’s not just getting it over with behind their backs and that _matters_.

Maybe this is Tsukishima’s way of saying, let’s move on. Kuroo might not be back. And remembering him, acting as if he hasn’t left, _hurts_. Maybe this is Tsukishima reaching out to them.

Or maybe Keiji is too optimistic, because in the silence Tsukishima’s glare gets a little bit harder and then he adds on, “It’s not like he’s coming back.”

That is the little extra push needed to predictably spur Koutarou into action. “Hey, you don’t know that! You can’t just throw his things away! When Kuroo comes back—”

“ _If_ he comes back,” Tsukishima cuts in, his voice cold and sharp like ice, “and either way I’m sick of having it take up space in the bathroom.”

Koutarou glares. Tsukishima glares back.

Keiji sighs and puts a hand on Koutarou’s shoulder. “Bokuto, it’s just a toothbrush,” he murmurs. Honestly—he might be a little relieved that he won’t have to see it every morning and evening anymore. “If Kuroo comes back, he can have a new one.”

Koutarou gives him a betrayed look.

Tsukishima’s glance is much more open, surprised and almost—grateful. Keiji has no doubts that Tsukishima noticed him mirroring the _if_ , instead of saying _when_ , because that level of detail is what they both operate on. And admitting that none of them are really sure how this will play out, siding with Tsukishima—it’s a concession that feels necessary right now.

As much as Keiji wants to share Koutarou’s optimism that Kuroo will come back to them at some point—in some way, Keiji isn’t entirely convinced.

He’s still working very hard on believing that _Koutarou_ won’t one day grow bored and leave him, despite Koutarou’s daily assurances and genuine words of love. There is just no way for Keiji to have any conviction in Kuroo caring about them in a meaningful manner, when their time together was so short and wrought with so many problems.

Maybe, once Kuroo’s magic gets fixed, he’ll just be happy to have Kozume back and feel no need whatsoever to reach out. The thought hurts, but Keiji thinks he could live with that so long as he knows that Kuroo is safe and happy.

“Alright,” Tsukishima mutters after another beat of silence, walking away to get back to cleaning the bathroom. And to dispose of the toothbrush.

Koutarou glares after him and then settles his sharp eyes on Keiji. There’s a silent question in his gaze, with a little bit of an accusation, and Keiji attempts to hide his squirm with a shrug.

“He wouldn’t want an old toothbrush when he comes back,” he mumbles a weak excuse. Koutarou’s stare is unyielding, and so Keiji takes a deep breath. “And I think Tsukishima needs this.”

They’re still holding on to old pieces of Kuroo and it’s painful. Maybe it would be easier to let go of that. To move on.

And this, more than anything, seems to sway Koutarou’s mind.

“Fine,” he huffs after a moment, crossing his arms. “But just because Tsukki needs it.”

Keiji nods. He feels a bit bad about it, but he can’t bring himself to say that _he_ might need it, too.

* * *

Kei is kissing him and it’s—

Wrong.

Shy and hesitant, like he’s _scared_ —

Of course, why wouldn’t he be scared—

Tetsurou pulls back, _wants_ to pull back, but his body doesn’t move. Kei’s face gets pale and _terrified_ , blurry but definitely terrified, and he’s talking—he’s _begging_ Tetsurou to stop, and Tetsurou _wants_ to stop, he doesn’t want this—

But his hands are black claws, pushing Kei down, strangling him, cutting him—

Black with red streaks of blood.

Why is there so much blood? It’s on his hands. Black claws.

Kei’s eyes are dull and lifeless and there is so much blood—

Tetsurou shoots up, gasping for air and immediately choking on the stench of it, acrid and pungent. _Demonic._

He scrambles up and just barely makes it into the bathroom before he’s throwing up. The smell of that stings in his nose, too, but at least it’s better than the foul stench of his magic.

It takes a while. When his stomach finally settles enough for him to stop, Tetsurou straightens up as much as he can. Looks at his black claws.

All he can see is blood, and then he’s throwing up again, choking until he’s heaving dry.

His wings rustle on the floor, like something is sneaking up behind him. He can’t keep them still, can’t stop shaking. His back hurts with every twitch, long past its limit carrying around so much foreign weight.

Tetsurou chokes again, spitting out nothing but saliva and blood. He watches the red swirls of it and feels sick all over again. Did he cut his—strange, gross, smooth—tongue on his too sharp teeth again or is this a new sign that he’s dying?

There’s more rustling behind him. Tetsurou thinks it’s just his stupid wings scratching over the floor again, until Kenma slides past his wing, startling him so much that he flinches. Tetsurou hates not being able to hear Kenma approach anymore. And he can’t smell Kenma in this reeking air.

He hates everything about this.

Kenma presses himself against Tetsurou’s side wordlessly.

Tetsurou shivers. Kenma feels too cold, but mostly his own body feels too hot. Feverish. His head is pounding.

As if he can sense it, Kenma runs a cool, careful hand over Tetsurou’s clammy forehead. He pulls a face, no doubt because of how grossly sweaty Tetsurou’s skin is, and cards aside Tetsurou’s hair. Tetsurou doesn’t want to see Kenma’s pinched expression, but it’s better than staring at the blood and vomit in the toilet or his black claws clutching the seat, shaking like they’re really a part of him.

Kenma trails his fingers down to Tetsurou’s throat. Quietly, he mutters the healing spell he looked up a few days ago. The stinging eases.

“You’re going to ruin your throat at this rate, Kuro,” Kenma mutters, all soft reproach even though they both know that there’s no helping this. Tetsurou is turning into a monster and he fears the day when he might not be disgusted by that.

Tetsurou sighs and allows himself to slump into the comfort of Kenma’s warmth, even though he doesn’t deserve it. Kenma lets him. Just kneels there, steady under the weight of Tetsurou and his awful wings.

“Was it your Mom again?” Kenma asks quietly.

Tetsurou shakes his head.

Kenma shifts a little. Adjusts so he can lean his head against Tetsurou’s.

“Me?”

Tetsurou shakes his head again. Closes his eyes.

“Tsukishima?” Kenma asks.

Tetsurou doesn’t say anything and that’s answer enough.

Silently, Kenma runs his fingers through Tetsurou’s hair to comfort him. Tetsurou bitterly misses the days when it was actually comforting. When Kenma could pat his ears. When he didn’t have to focus on not flinching every time Kenma’s fingers bump against the ugly horns on his head.

He wants to bury his face in Kenma’s neck and doesn’t, because his mouth is still disgusting.

Kenma keeps petting his head, and then Tetsurou feels the soft curl of Kenma’s tail against his own. It used to be familiar.

Now it just makes his stomach twist violently, like he’s going to throw up again. It feels gross, because Tetsurou’s tail is so wrong now. It lost all of his wonderful, thick fur. Instead it’s thin and leathery like dead rubber. He pulls it away.

Kenma huffs, quietly, and curls his tail around Tetsurou’s a second time, tangling them until Tetsurou can’t pull away anymore.

Tetsurou sighs and gives up.

His eyes burn and he tells himself that it’s because he’s so tired. He wants to sleep. He lets them slide shut.

He wants to go home.

The thought is horrible. Bitter and painful and so desolate, because he _is_ home. He’s finally home again and Kenma is here and Kenma is safe and Kenma is holding him, so feeling this way is just—

Their home is fine and Kenma is fine. It’s just Tetsurou who doesn’t fit in anymore.

Kenma nudges them both to get up and lie down together in Kenma’s bed before they can fall asleep in the bathroom. The sheets are cool enough to make Tetsurou shudder, just like Kenma’s skin was. Tetsurou wants to curl up and his back protests the movement, the wings pulling at him painfully.

“Do you want a spell to sleep? Or some tea?” Kenma asks quietly.

Tetsurou mutely shakes his head. He doesn’t think he wants to fall asleep again at all.

Kei’s terrified face is still stuck in his mind and Tetsurou doesn’t want to see it ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the short side again, I apologize.
> 
> While the last chapter was all about Bokuto and Akaashi, this one is focused more on Tsukki and Kuroo. To be honest, I wanted to fit in Kuroo's POV even later (and torture you guys for longer), but it fit better this way. And aren't you happy to know how Tsukki and Kuroo are doing :)c
> 
> It feels strange for me now to cover so much time in the fic so quickly, after spending about ten chapters on just three days. But now here they are, mid-December and getting used to living apart. Fun times!
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a bit longer again, I promise! Stay safe and stay healthy until then! <3


	24. Five Amazing Presents That Still Won’t Make Your Asshole Cat Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What? Another update already?" you may think. But yes! It is true!  
> My dumb ass has caught a cold (it's not corona, I got tested, don't worry), so I have been avoiding all other life on this planet by sequestering myself at home and that has given me a lot of time to write. So here is another update already! Yay!
> 
> Please enjoy :D

The next day, Koutarou comes home with a brand-new toothbrush and a cup to put it in. He shows them off to Keiji and Tsukishima, wordlessly, like it’s a challenge.

Tsukishima turns around and leaves, and Keiji can’t deny that it worries him.

But looking at the new toothbrush—he also can’t deny that he feels a little bit optimistic, too.

Throwing out the old toothbrush was saying ‘Kuroo won’t come back for a long time, if at all’.

This new one is Koutarou saying ‘But we’re waiting for him anyway’. And even as Keiji is anxious about how things might turn out, he’s at least willing to try that little bit of optimism.

* * *

They put the toothbrush and the cup into a box in their closet—right next to the other box, the one that Koutarou has very firmly instructed Keiji to not open before Christmas. Keiji is such an amazing human being with so much self-control that Koutarou has no doubt his surprise presents will be safe there. Safer than they could be in any other hideout where Keiji might accidentally stumble over them while cleaning the apartment.

A few days later, the box also gets a mug. It has a black cat printed on it, holding out a knife, and there's text saying ‘I am small and sensitive but also fight me’. Koutarou couldn’t _not_ buy it.

And then, the next week, Keiji pulls out a soft, fluffy towel, muttering something about Kuroo always liking to keep clean with the cutest flush on his cheeks. Koutarou’s heart beats fast, full to the brim with love and happiness, and he makes sure to tell Keiji so, with lots of kisses, until Keiji is giggling and out of breath and his whole face is pink.

Koutarou really, really hopes that Kuroo will come back to them, and soon. But he is glad to know that he and Keiji will be fine while they’re waiting.

He knows that they can do anything, as long as they have each other.

* * *

Kei wakes up, choking on a gasp.

He has to blink a few times before the eerie, glowing demonic eyes fade from his vision. Before he can unsee the gleam of sharp teeth in a familiar face.

It still feels like claws are pressing down on his throat, but that is—that’s different. That will fade once Kei has calmed down. He knows from experience.

It’s very silent, aside from his ragged breathing. No surprise there. According to his phone, it’s just past 3 am. Akaashi and Bokuto are most likely asleep.

Kei swallows and tries to will his heartbeat to slow down. It’s not really working, but what else is he supposed to do? Calling Yamaguchi at this hour would be real a dick move, and Kei doesn’t entirely trust his voice anyway.

If he calls Yamaguchi like this, Yamaguchi might just not let him off the hook. Kei isn’t sure if he’s capable of brushing off prying questions in his current state.

So he sits in his bed, sheets pooling around him, and all he does is focus on breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It’s easy, really. Any child could do it. Kei just has to get over himself and it will be easy.

In.

Out.

In.

He chokes on a sob that’s rising in his chest and stubbornly keeps it inside. His hands shake and he glares at them for it. It takes some effort to untangle his sheets, and then he curls up underneath and tries to tell himself again, _in, out, in, out, in_ —

He wraps his arms around his pillow tightly, muffling the next traitorous sound into the fabric.

Fuck. Fuck all of this.

What is he? Some sort of stupid, dumb baby? Waking up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and crying and wishing, desperately, that _someone_ was here to hold him—

Fucking pathetic.

He’s an adult. Not some crybaby, and not some stupid loser who gets hung up on his feelings. He’s totally _fine_ —

In. Out. In. Out.

It’s hard to breathe with the pillow pressed to his face, but Kei doesn’t trust himself to take it away. It’s not cold, not really, but Kei wishes desperately it was warmer. That his pillow was someone else. He wishes that Kuroo was still here—

Stupid. He knew right from the start that it would end like this. Hell, things were even worse than Kei expected—he thought Kuroo would walk out on them. Kei never saw it coming that the guy would turn into a demon and try to kill him.

Kei shouldn’t still want him here. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He should be glad. He should be fucking ecstatic. The monster that attacked him in the forest is gone. That’s good! He should be happy.

He’s _going to be_ happy. It’s good that Kuroo is gone, because now Kei can finally get over—over that gross, ugly thing that has been building up inside of him, growing and festering and filling him with dumb, silly feelings. Kei can pull it all out of his mind now, like a weed, dig it up along with its roots and watch it shrivel up and die, and then he’ll be free of this _hurt_. Of the broken, aching feeling that’s eating him up. Of clutching his pillow in the middle of the night, wishing it was someone else.

Kei wants to be rid of it already. He wants to stop feeling so awful all the time. The sooner he can get there, the better.

He closes his eyes and wills himself to breathe again.

In, out. In, out.

Until he falls asleep.

* * *

Koutarou is honestly impressed with how fast his arm is healing. He thinks Sugawara said something about that when he put a bunch of spells on the injury, but Koutarou wasn’t really in the state to listen back then.

All he knows is that now, three weeks after the fact, the deep cuts are nothing more than faint, red lines. And his arm only hurts when he moves it around particularly wildly, which he still sometimes does because it’s hard to remember that he’s not supposed to when his arm doesn’t hurt.

Keiji notices, of course, because he notices everything. And since verbal reminders don’t do much for Koutarou, Keiji—being the brilliant genius that he is—sometimes just holds Koutarou’s hand to keep him still.

Koutarou likes that. He likes that very much.

Just how he likes it when Keiji dabs some ointment on the remainders of the scratches, always careful and gentle about it.

Koutarou doesn’t care much if there will be scars left behind. But he thinks—he thinks, when Kuroo comes back, he’ll probably be sad to see the scars. He seemed to blame himself a lot that Koutarou got hurt.

So for that alone, Koutarou is trying very hard to remember to keep still and to let Keiji put weird-smelling stuff on his arm.

So Kuroo won’t be sad when they meet again.

* * *

They keep picking up presents. It's not even on purpose. It just happens. They see something somewhere, and think of Kuroo, and then it ends up in the box.

Boxes.

There are three of them now, because Keiji saw a very nice sweater that he thought Kuroo should have, and from there, between him and Koutarou, it quickly escalated into acquiring a whole wardrobe.

Clothes are big and the boxes are rather small, so it’s. It’s probably okay. One might argue about the garlic press that Keiji got specifically because Kuroo complained once how it’s outrageous that they don’t have one, or the new video game in a series that Keiji saw them playing once and that Koutarou definitely didn’t see somewhere on the way home but went to buy on purpose. And sometimes Keiji thinks maybe this is all just one huge attempt at lying to themselves, at keeping up a pretense and a fantasy that might never come true, but—

But maybe it _will_ come true. Keiji is trying to be optimistic for once, just a little bit, and he doesn’t want to stop hoping.

And somehow, as he keeps stubbornly holding on to this belief, it starts to feel less like something doomed to fail—and more like real hope.

* * *

Kei is getting better at this, he thinks.

He’s calmer these days. More in control. He threw out everything that reminded him of—

The apartment feels _clean_ now.

Kei took control of his life and now he’s reaping the rewards. He can walk around the place without stumbling over old things that make him tear up. Everything is in order now. He can finally move on.

That makes it all the more annoying that the two people he’s sharing this place with appear to have fallen to madness. It was only a matter of time with Bokuto, really, but Kei didn’t expect this from Akaashi.

Akaashi is so composed, usually, so reasonable. Not the type to get sucked into foolish shenanigans or to act overly emotional. He’s pragmatic, _ruthlessly_ so, willing to walk over anyone and anything if necessary, including his own feelings. Kei just recently got to witness that in full action and whenever he thinks about it, it still takes his breath away—all that determination, all that sharp intelligence, and all of it still wielded so carefully, powerful weapons that Akaashi can bring out at will while still being perfectly capable of being kind and understanding and loving in between, so very much unlike Kei who has never been able to soften his jagged edges—Kei could marvel over Akaashi for _days_ —

That’s not the point. That is, in fact, a very bad direction.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.

Kei never should have gone with them on that hellish weekend. He should have just stayed home. Or gone to work. If he hadn’t come along, he wouldn’t have witnessed Akaashi tear through every obstacle in their way. He wouldn’t have been so weak and burned out that he allowed these terrible, awful feelings to take hold in him—

As if missing Kuroo alone wasn’t bad enough already.

As if it hasn’t been painful enough before, to watch Akaashi and Bokuto lift each other up all that time while he was left behind. Alone.

No. No. Of course not. Kei’s stupid heart just had to go and make it all worse.

He watched a movie, once, where a man got his heart removed to be rid of his emotions, and while it was complete and utter nonsense that Kei made fun of at the time, he really wishes that was an option for him right now.

Just be rid of it all.

It’s fucking tearing him apart that he can’t. That he has to live with this, now.

But he can at least _try_ to keep his sanity intact, can at least refuse to let his foolish emotions guide him, unlike Akaashi, who seems to have lost his mind because he’s now going along with Bokuto in this weird—this weird quest to keep amassing presents, more and more and more of them, as if they have that much money to spare, and they keep piling them up, just in case Kuroo will come back.

It’s madness.

Gathering so many things is factually not going to influence the future at all.

And most likely, the future will be Kuroo not coming back, period.

Kei wanted to be hopeful about it, because while Kuroo wasn’t nearly as attached to them as he is to _fucking Kozume Kenma_ , he at least seemed to be interested in a casual hook-up with them. Or so Kei thought. But Kuroo didn’t want to kiss him when they said goodbye, so—

Maybe he was just interested as long as they were the only option available. Maybe now that he can have anyone else, he doesn’t care about Kei and Bokuto and Akaashi anymore.

And so what? Kei doesn’t care, either. He doesn’t care at all. Actually, he’s glad to be rid of that annoying cat bastard. He hopes Kuroo doesn’t come back at all. So there.

Maybe he will go out and find someone better to hook up with. Maybe he should do that. Maybe that will make the awful, constricting feeling in his chest go away.

“Tsukki, are you okay?” Bokuto asks him over dinner. “You look kinda tired. Do you want to watch a movie with us tonight?”

Kei has to work hard not to yell at him. He focuses on breathing instead—in, out, in, out—he’s getting really good at it—and sends the overly intrusive idiot a cold look. “No, I don’t.”

Bokuto doesn’t even really deflate, just kind of shuffles around like he’s thinking about what to bother Kei with _next_ —

Kei is already regretting sitting down to dinner with them at all. He was hungry and they were already there and it didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the time, but now—

Kei is sick of seeing them together. Casually side by side, fingers occasionally brushing while they eat. Every time it happens, a small smile twitches over Akaashi’s lips and the idiot Bokuto grins like he just won a fucking award or something—

It makes Kei want to scream.

It makes him want to rage and yell and shout, just so they’ll _stop_. Just so they’ll quit giving each other these loving looks, stuck in their own, private little world where love fixes everything and they have heaps of it. Where buying presents that won’t ever be needed makes everything okay, where they can blindly believe that Kuroo will be back even though there’s _no guarantee_ for it. Where they can be happy and laughing as if they don’t even _miss him_ , like there’s no huge, painful, yearning thing eating them up from the inside out—

But Kei is a rational human being. So he doesn’t shout. He just eats the rest of his dinner with two quick bites, gets up, and announces, “I’m going to my room. Good night.”

Bokuto leans forward immediately, eyes wide. “Hey, what? You barely ate anything. Do you want to have desert? I bought ice cream earlier. Strawberry flavor, too.”

That’s Kei’s favorite.

He regrets ever letting Bokuto find out.

He can only stare, for a moment, struggling to keep his face neutral. It’s hard, because it feels like Bokuto just stabbed him in the chest, with something hot and searing and electrifying, and Kei can’t—

He doesn’t even _understand_. All of these things—the movies and the talking and the constant presents—all of it should only be for Akaashi. Why is Bokuto even _offering_ it to Kei?

Bokuto has always done this, even before the whole disaster with Kuroo. Only now, it has become even more unbearable. Not only because Bokuto is more insistent, but also because Kei has noticed himself getting meaner and meaner about brushing him off and still, somehow, that doesn’t _stop_ Bokuto.

_Why_ won’t he stop? What could Bokuto possibly hope to gain from this? Shouldn’t he be perfectly content to be dating Akaashi? Why in the world would he want to invite Kei with his terrible personality and constant mean barbs along to _anything_?

Do they need someone to fill the hole that Kuroo left behind that badly? Is that it?

As if Kei ever could.

Kuroo was so—so—

And Kei can’t even look at them. It’s just painful.

“I _said_ I’m going to my room,” he grinds out, and then, because Bokuto _still_ looks like he wants to suggest something new, he adds on, “Stop bothering me with this stupid shit.”

Now, finally, Bokuto does wilt a little.

Kei can’t breathe anymore.

He turns around and he walks out, his too-fast heartbeat echoing in his ears and it’s—

It’s okay, he tells himself. He needs to shut Bokuto down once and for all. Maybe when Bokuto finally stops inviting him along, all of this can stop being so painful. And the faster Kei makes him stop, the less likely they are to have another fight.

Thinking back to the last fight still makes his stomach turn over, but. In some moments, when Bokuto is laughing particularly carelessly or is making an invitation with a particularly sickening smile, when Akaashi is sneaking in a small touch or looking at Kei with those terrible, sad eyes, when one of those two idiots drags in yet another thing that they bought for Kuroo, as if _that_ isn’t well and truly _over_ —

In those moments, Kei feels anger bubbling up inside of him, dark and putrid and so overwhelming that _all_ he wants is to scream at them. To make them see how hopeless this all is, to make them cry and fall apart until they feel just as miserable as Kei—

But.

But Kei is tired. And he doesn’t want to shout at them anymore.

He doesn’t want to be the kind of person who says such horrible things to others—he _is_ , but then he remembers Bokuto’s crying face and his hug when Kei was falling apart, and Kei doesn’t want to be that person anymore—

And he doesn’t want to end up like the last time—not that it could. Not with Bokuto’s arm still injured. There’s no way right now that he could lift Kei up and—and—

Or maybe he _could_. Kei doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how much Bokuto’s wounds have healed by now. Sometimes he wants to ask and then he bites his tongue until the silly impulse fades away, because the _last thing_ he needs is to get sucked any deeper into this. He has to _stop_ all of these terrible feelings instead of indulging them—

And maybe. Maybe if he does lose his temper again. If he does yell until Bokuto is crying. Maybe then he’ll finally be left alone. Maybe then he can finally rid himself of feeling this way.

But Kei is tired, and he just can’t gather up the strength to do make himself do it. There’s an awful, horrible, stupid, _weak_ part of him that is too scared and too attached to push Bokuto and Akaashi away for good.

And so those dumb, awful feelings continue festering in his chest, their roots digging deeper.

* * *

“What?” Tetsurou asks. It’s so shocked and breathless that it’s barely audible at all.

He must have misheard. There’s no way Kenma just suggested that.

Kenma wouldn’t _do_ this to him.

“We need to think about letting the boosting spells fade out. See if your body can adjust to being more demonic,” is what Kenma repeats, however. His voice is quiet and flat even as he’s squirming and avoiding Tetsurou’s glare. “I know you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, _no shit_ ,” Tetsurou hisses. His eyes feel too hot. The only reason he isn’t yelling is because Kai is in the next room over and if Kai decides that Tetsurou is an unstable, dangerous mess, it doesn’t matter what kind of bullshit Kenma is coming up with. If Kai withdraws his help, it’s not like Kenma and Yaku and Lev can keep boosting him on their own. They’re barely keeping up even with Kai in the mix.

And now Kenma wants to change that. Kenma wants to boost his human and cat spirit magic less and that’s—

Tetsurou knows how that works. Either his body can’t keep up and they’ll declare it a loss and go back to the regular boosting so that he’s not overwhelmed by his own destructive magic. Or—

Or his body _can_ adjust. Can get used to being more demonic than before.

It’s not impossible. Humans are physical beings and unlikely to get used to such a dramatic change, but Tetsurou is more cat spirit than human and those are—spiritual. Non-physical. Magical.

It’s perfectly possible that his body can, with time, adjust to a higher level of demonic magic. Like a piece of paper being stained by ink. But that would be—

If what Kenma suggests works out, that could be _permanent_.

Tetsurou thinks of having his ugly horns and too sharp teeth and gross, slithering tail for the rest of his life, and his stomach turns over. He feels sick. His useless wings tear at his back with their weight, making it hard to breathe.

Kenma squirms again and still won’t look at him. His lips are pursed, unhappy. “I just don’t think we can keep this up much longer,” he mutters, beseeching, and that’s—

Tetsurou feels so fucking _betrayed_ that Kenma would even suggest this. Kenma _knows_ how much he hates demons, how much he hates being like this—

“It’s better than you dying, Kuro,” Kenma huffs.

“No,” Tetsurou hisses. “No fucking way.”

He glares at Kenma, and Kenma raises his head enough to stare back. “Kuro—”

“Fuck you,” Tetsurou hisses, and resists the urge to bare his stupid sharp teeth and _growl_ like he’s some kind of horror movie monster.

He doesn’t want to be that.

He _never_ wanted to be that, so why is this _happening_ to him now—

Why does Kenma want him to be more of a monster?

Kenma’s glare on him is desperate and unrelenting, and Tetsurou hates that in the end, he’s the one to look away first.

He glares down at the black claws that used to be his feet and mutters, “I’ll talk to Kai alone today.”

He doesn’t look back or wait for Kenma to say anything.

When Tetsurou enters the living room, Kai is already looking his way.

“Is everything alright?” Kai asks him, his voice carefully neutral.

Tetsurou heaves his stupid wings through the door and closes it firmly behind him. “Yes,” he breathes out, and tries not to growl or to glare or to do anything else that’s aggressive.

He really needs Kai’s help. Especially if Kenma is going to leave him hanging now.

Kai gives him an unsure look, but he doesn’t ask again, fortunately. They don’t talk much while Kai casts the boosting spell for Tetsurou, and Tetsurou tries not to stare at him as he does it.

He doesn’t know where Kenma even _found_ Kai. Or Yaku. Or Lev.

By the time Tetsurou came back from the Shimizus, Kenma simply told him that he’d found more people to help boost Tetsurou’s magic and that was that. End of story. Even though Tetsurou has _no idea_ how one goes about recruiting people who have specifically cat spirit and human heritage. It’s not like there’s a complete list floating around somewhere or people write ‘I can boost cat spirit and human magic without accidentally triggering demonic magic’ in their Facebook profiles. Yet here they are.

Kai doesn’t even look like much of a cat spirit. His appearance is perfectly human, except for the way his eyes sometimes flash in the light. And he speaks cat perfectly, if Tetsurou remembers it right.

Yaku looks mostly human, too, except for the way he moves and his ability to shift for a short time. So maybe it’s actually Tetsurou and Kenma who are the outliers with the amount of cat spirit showing through in their appearance.

Lev is a different deal entirely, since he’s all cat spirit. Daichi or Suga usually come over along with him to help boost Tetsurou, so his magic stays in balance. It’s nice to see them every once in a while, even though it can get tiring to keep brushing off their attempts at comfort. Tetsurou just doesn’t want to kiss anyone when he can’t even eat a meal without biting himself bloody.

It’s a mess. He wants to be rid of this sharp, twisted body already.

Not keep it forever. Not make it something permanent.

Tetsurou just wants to be his normal self again.

He misses how things were before. When he wasn’t fighting with Kenma and didn’t wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares and could make out with Daichi and Suga without worries. When he would have been thinking about whether he should ask Kai to hook up instead of how to not alienate him so Kai will help keep him _alive_. When his body felt like his own instead of weird and scary. When he could curl up somewhere with Akaashi or Kei or Bokuto—

Tetsurou’s heart stings painfully at the thought.

He misses all of that _so much_.

But it’s not like he can have it back. He can’t change the fact that he’s a creepy, fucked up monster now. Not until Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Oikawa find out what is even happening to him and how to stop it.

And Tetsurou can’t crawl back to Kei and Akaashi and Bokuto the way he is now. He’s caused them more than enough trouble already. The last thing he should do is add to that. Be it for harboring a demon or by making them a target for whoever is behind this mess or by putting them all in danger when he loses control again—

He never wants to hurt one of them again.

_Never_.

He will never do that to them, or to Kenma, or to Daichi and Suga.

He will never allow himself to turn into an actual demon, no matter what the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it sounds in this chapter like months are passing, please know that it's actually only about two weeks. You know how the days before Christmas always seem to stretch on and last forever? That is what is happening here. Definitely not bad planning on my part. Definitely not. Ahahaha :'D
> 
> I got comments from a lot of you saying that you want Kuroo to have his cat ears and tail again. Well, as you can see, Kuroo is working very hard to make that happen. Let's see how that goes...  
> Also, new characters showing up! So exciting! I love little cameos of characters in long fics and I hope you're happy to hear from these three. Sidelines is pretty focused on our main four idiots, but I always think it's fun to see what others are doing along the way. Who knows, maybe now that they've been mentioned, Kai, Yaku, and Lev will show up every once in a while ;)
> 
> Anyway, this chapter has been a bit on the slow side. Sorry about that—but do not worry! The next one will have some more action again! ;)
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested in where to find this hilarious mug, you can get it [here](https://www.aliexpress.com/item/4000108535640.html) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading up till here! As said above, this work is completely self-indulgent, so I will work on it and finish it and cherish it now matter what. If you, random citizen, also liked it, I would still love to hear about it so we can gush about these idiots together!  
> Anyway, all my update schedules are a lie, so the next chapter will come at some point in the future that I dare not specify any further.


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